#i can’t even hang out with my friends without losing my shit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fanficimagery · 1 year

Text

The Lost Girl

You just wanted to travel and forget all about the drama you left behind. You didn't expect to fall in with four boys who would become another family. Maybe more.

[Part Two of Three]

Author’s Note: This is... terrible. As with everything I've written before, I lost interest in this idea. But since I posted part one, I NEEDED to post a part two. Unfortunately, this then turned into three parts, so I need to start writing that now. Joy -_- Words: 7.6K

In the privacy of the cave that was once a popular resort, you pace around the space as you poke at the burning wound on your shoulder. You can already see the venom from the bite poisoning the flesh around the wound and you grimace. "Fuck."

"What can we do?" Dwayne asks.

"Nothing."

Paul and Marko quickly ignite the barrels around the cave as David and Dwayne keep watch over you, and you pull your phone out from your back pocket, sighing with relief when you see you still have two bars of reception. Without meeting anyone's gaze, you find Klaus' contact and call him. The first call goes to voicemail, as does the second, third, and fourth.

"Answer the phone, Niklaus Mikaelson!" You hiss into a voicemail. Then finding Elijah's contact, you call him and sag with relief when you hear him pick up. "Where's your idiot brother?"

"Well hello to you too, Miss Gilbert."

"Elijah, I love you, but now is not the time. I'm on a time limit here. Where. Is. Your. Brother?"

The phone line goes quiet and then, "What happened?"

"A couple of werewolves decided to make camp in territory that doesn't belong to them." There was no beating around the bush. Not if you wanted the cure as soon as possible.

"We're on our way."

"Please hurry."

"Are you in a safe place? Does anyone know what you are?"

"Yeah. My new friends are vampires, but they're different. They're forced to sleep from sunup to sundown."

"Put them on."

"You're on speaker," you say as you press the speaker option.

"To whomever is listening, you need to prepare. YN's health will deteriorate very quickly, and she will hallucinate. She won't know who you are. Do you have a place away from innocent civilians?"

"Yes," David answers. "We're pretty well removed from the humans. At the bottom of Hudson's Bluff, there's an entrance into our home."

"Good. Niklaus and I will get there as quickly as we can. You might want to have chains on hand because YN will either try to harm herself or you. And YN? I know you hate it, but if they sleep while the sun is up, you need to give up your daylight ring so you can't leave."

"Figures." You sigh.

"We'll be there soon."

Elijah hangs up and you place your phone aside on an upturned crate. Pacing once more, you nervously fidget with your daylight ring that Elijah mentioned. You've never felt comfortable parting with it, but you know things are about to get crazy and you can't risk leaving the cave while the boys are sleeping.

"I haven't taken my ring off since it was given to me," you say. Hesitantly, you slip it off and glance at Dwayne. "If you lose it, I will murder you."

Dwayne doesn't even crack a smile, but he does accept the ring when you hold it out for him. He stares at it and then slips it onto his pinky. "You'll get this back as soon as you're cured."

"I know." You smile sadly at him and then meet the concerned gazes of Paul and Marko.

"Do we really need to chain you up?" Paul asks.

"It would be best."

"We're not chaining you up," Dwayne says. "What's the next option?"

"Nothing. If you leave me free, you need to barricade wherever it is you guys' sleep. I don't want to risk flipping my shit and thinking you're all threats when you can't defend yourself."

Marko nods. "We can do that. Anything else?"

"Yeah. Go out and feed. If shit hits the fan when you guys wake up, you're gonna want your full strength."

"We're not leaving you," Dwayne says.

At that, you smile softly. "I'll be fine right now. I'll clean off that mattress over there," you say while pointing to the mattress in question, "and try to get some sleep. It'll start off like a fast-acting flu before the craziness sets in."

Dwayne opens his mouth to retort, but David pulls rank. "She's right. Let's go."

Instead of arguing, Dwayne says, "Fine, but don't mess with that mattress and blanket. We can still access some of the rooms in this place, so we'll find you a better mattress."

"Okay."

As the four boys take their leave, you lay on the sofa and attempt to remain calm. You already know how this is going to go thanks to Rose and Damon being bit by a werewolf before, and you're dreading it.

. .

The boys return hours later- Paul and Marko riding the high of a fuck and feed whereas David and Dwayne have yet to forget what's waiting for them in the cave. They immediately recognize something is off when Paul and Marko go quiet, and then hear Marko hesitantly calling out your name.

David and Dwayne rush into the main room to see you sitting on the couch, hunched over your knees with your hands clasped around your ears. But the moment Marko touches your uninjured shoulder, you snap. You hiss and grab Marko by the throat, moving so fast and pinning him to the couch you were just sitting on.

"Where's my brother?! Who are- what did you do with him?!"

"YN? YN it's me Marko. I don't-"

"Stop lying!"

"Grab her," David says.

Dwayne doesn't waste a second, flying over to you and wrapping his arms around you from behind. You buck and hiss in his hold, and he's surprised by the strength you possess even while injured. "She's burning up," he tells them.

"Holy shit. Have the hallucinations started already?" Paul asks, helping his stunned brother up.

Marko huffs. "Uh, yeah! Do you think any of us have ever met her brother?"

"Fair."

You continue to scream and thrash, and it isn't until David walks in front of you and grasps your face between his hands do you calm down. "YN. You're in Santa Carla, not Mystic Falls. None of us know who your brother is."

He can see when your mind clears, the glaze in your eyes dimming just a little.

"David..?"

"There you are." The blonde smirks as he releases your face. "I think you gave Marko a bit of a scare."

Your gaze darts to Marko who grins at you and then glance down at the arms banded around you. "What did I do?" You ask.

"Nothing much, girlie," Marko assures you. "I was just surprised by your strength."

"Dwayne?"

"You surprised him by pinning him to the couch. You didn't hurt him."

The moment you sag in Dwayne's hold, David instructs Marko and Paul to get your temporary room ready. Dwayne sets you on your feet, but he doesn't let you go. Instead, he sits on the couch and drags you down until you're sitting sideways on his lap.

"Everything hurts," you whine as you settle, resting your head on Dwayne's shoulder. "I just want it to stop."

"What can we do?"

"Nothing. Only the cure will stop it."

"What is the cure?" David asks. "You never said."

You hesitate to answer, but figure they're going to find out soon anyway. "It's Klaus' blood. It's why ninety-nine percent of infected vampires die. They either don't know there's a cure or Klaus refuses to give up his blood."

"So, he has the ability to infect and save a vampire with his bite and blood?"

Shivering, you nod.

"Did he ever bite you?" Dwayne asks. "When you were enemies?"

"No, but he did bite my friend Caroline. And then he saved her because he's in love with her."

Neither say anything and the only noise is that from Paul and Marko who are setting up your space. You continue to shake and whimper in Dwayne's hold, waiting until you can lay down. And then when it's all done, Dwayne stands and carries you over to the mattress.

"Sun's almost up. Do you need anything?"

"No." You curl up, dragging a sheet over yourself. "Just go and barricade yourselves in. If I somehow find you and you manage to wake up, snap my neck. I'll wake up eventually."

"Dibs on snapping-"

"We're not snapping her neck," Dwayne snarls at Paul. "Shut up."

Paul's eyes widen as Marko snickers at his misfortune. You manage a weak smile before letting your eyes drift close, and then the space darkens when the sheets around you are settled in place.

"You think she'll still be alive when we wake up?" Marko asks.

"Yes."

Dwayne stalks off and the boys watch him go. Only when he's out of earshot does David say, "For all of our sakes, those friends of hers better get here soon. I have a feeling Dwayne will brood for a long while if something happens to YN."

"Are mates real?" Paul suddenly wonders. "Because as far as I know, Dwayne and YN haven't even kissed, and our boy is protective and possessive."

David chuckles. "Who knows. Now come on. Sun's here."

As soon as the words leave David's mouth, shafts of sunlight start filtering in, and the boys make a beeline for the tunnel that leads to their own sleeping quarters.

The moment the sun dips below the horizon and the Lost Boys' eyes snap open, none of them waste another second hanging upside down. They fly down and rush towards the main room but hesitate by the opening of the tunnel to listen for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing seems amiss, so they head on out.

One by one, the vampires spread out with Dwayne heading towards YN's sleeping space. He pulls back the sheets and what he finds has the breath stilling in his lungs. YN lays there, paler than ever with sweat slicked skin. There are dark circles beneath her eyes, and it appears as if she's barely breathing.

"Find her phone. Call her friends. Now!" David barks.

Paul and Marko immediately go on the hunt and Dwayne steps onto the mattress, lowering himself down next to her. "..YN?"

With your peaceful slumber interrupted, your eyes flutter open, but readily fall back shut, and you whine as you register the pain your body is in. "Noooo."

"You gotta get up, sweetheart."

"S'too late. You should go. Don't need to see this." You weakly push at the hand smoothing hair from your forehead. "Go."

"No."

Tears gather behind your eyelids, and you manage to open them to get one last look. You sigh at seeing Dwayne's anguished features and then turn your head, only to find David and the others standing where your sheets once hung. "Thank you. For taking me in," you mumble. "I forgot what it felt like to have people treat me with decency."

"You're talking like you're dyin', girlie," Paul muses. "You ain't goin' nowhere. Not if we have any say so in the matter."

You manage a weak smile before you let your eyes fall shut. "If only.."

"Hey. Hey, no. Open your eyes." Dwayne lifts your upper body, moving behind you to cradle you between his thighs and against his chest. "Open your eyes, YN."

"Stop, Dwayne. Please." Being jostled makes you whimper even more. "It hurts too much."

"Your friends will be here soon."

"Will they?" Your head falls back until it's resting on Dwayne's shoulder, and you open your eyes to see him. You weakly reach up, fingers caressing his jaw as you attempt to smile. "We would have annoyed the others so much."

"We still can."

"Maybe in our next life."

"Well, that's a bit dramatic." The boys all hiss at the accented voice and you choke on a sob. "And here I thought your sister Elena was the best actress in the Gilbert family."

"Klaus."

"Hello, love. You look unwell."

You frown. "I feel like shit."

"Language, Miss Gilbert."

Your gaze slides to Klaus' left and you smile. "Hello, Elijah."

Elijah smiles at you and then turns his attention to his brother. "Please heal Miss Gilbert so that we may convene elsewhere. No offense to your living situation," he then says while nodding at David.

You snort and then groan, and Klaus finally takes pity on you. He pulls something out of his pocket and then tosses it at Dwayne. "Help her drink that."

Dwayne catches a vial in hand, notices the thick red liquid inside, and quickly uncorks it. He holds the vial to your lips, and you readily drink Klaus' blood. You take a moment to catch your breath afterward, groaning as you push yourself to sit up. "Sooo, that was fun. Let's not do it again." Paul and Marko laugh, and then you twist your upper body a little to look at Dwayne. "Aren't you glad I didn't die?"

"I knew you wouldn't."

"Yeah, yeah. Now help me up. I feel gross and need to go back to my hotel to shower." Dwayne hurriedly climbs to his feet, offering you a hand up. You groan some more, stretching and grimacing now that you're no longer horizontal.

"So, like are you healed now?" Paul asks.

"Pretty much. I just need a good shower, a bite to eat, and to listen to my gut instinct and not follow David into the woods to hunt a goddamn werewolf."

Paul and Marko snicker as Elijah and Klaus turn towards the blonde in question. He lazily smirks, uncaring that the most feared vampire and hybrid are staring him down. "You might have followed me into the woods, but you tackled that wolf off of Dwayne when it had him pinned."

Klaus groans and Elijah shakes his head. "We should have known."

"Oh whatever." You avoid everyone's stare except for Dwayne's. "Thanks for tucking me and not leaving when I said so." You wink at him. "I'll meet you on the boardwalk in half an hour."

. .

It doesn't take you long whatsoever to shower, change, and guzzle down a couple blood bags that Elijah had taken the liberty to retrieve for you.

"Well, you look awfully dressed up for this deranged little town," Klaus says.

You smirk and give a little twirl, the skirt of your dress flaring out just above your knees. "Well, I gotta make up for how I looked just an hour ago."

"You really like this vampire, don't you?" Elijah wonders.

You shrug, suddenly bashful as you hunt down your cropped leather jacket. "I mean, he's nice."

Klaus snorts. "Nice doesn't catch your attention, sweetheart. Try again."

Slipping into your jacket, you quietly groan. "He's.. protective. And mine. And if anyone hurts him or his brothers, I will hurt them back."

When you meet the brothers' stare, you find them both smiling at you.

"It's about time you found someone," Elijah says. "Niklaus and I were starting to worry."

"Of course, you were." Your eyes roll, but you're still smiling fondly. "Now can we go? I also want human food now."

You, Elijah, and Klaus run to the boardwalk, blending in with the nightlife so no one sees you appear from between one blink and the next. The boardwalk brings a smile to your face, especially when the Mikaelson's look so out of place.

It isn't hard to find the Lost Boys since you know their usual hangouts and make a beeline for them leaning against the railing near their motorbikes. There are a few girls hanging around them, Paul and Marko eating the attention up and stringing along the poor girls with eyes for them. David and Dwayne, however, seem wholly uninterested in the two girls vying for their attention and you smile mischievously.

You saunter in Dwayne's direction, making sure to catch his gaze as you only have eyes for him. His eyes seem to pass over you before quickly flickering back and the moment his lips curve into a smile, you laugh. The girl who'd been standing too close in order to speak with him looks in your direction, frowning, but you completely ignore her. You walk right up to Dwayne, hands sliding around his bare waist under his jacket as you lean up on the tips of your toes to capture his lips in a kiss. He smiles against your mouth, immediately kissing you back as his own arms wrap around your waist to pull you against him.

The wolf-whistles and jeers from his brothers do nothing to deter you, nor does Elijah and Klaus' presence.

"Uh, excuse me?" The feminine voice interrupting you makes you mentally snarl.

You pull back and glance at the female for a second. "You're excused."

"We were talking."

"No, you were talking, and he was waiting for me. Now run along, little girl. Your presence isn't needed."

"Y'ow! That was cold, girlie." Paul calls out.

You wink at Paul and then look back at Dwayne. Lifting your left hand, you wiggle your empty ring finger. "I believe you have something of mine."

Dwayne smirks as he pulls your daylight ring off his pinky, sensually sliding your ring back into its rightful place. When it's settled on your finger, you chuckle before chastely kissing him again.

The girl who'd been vying for David's attention is apparently the smartest of the bunch and she readily rounds up her girls to walk off. Paul and Marko mockingly wave at them as they scoff at you still in Dwayne's arms, and you press a kiss to his bare chest before stepping aside and tucking yourself under his arm.

"Well, you're feeling better," David drawls.

"Mhm. Nothing like a little blood to perk one right back up."

The Lost Boys all chuckle but leave it to a Mikaelson to bring your mood back down.

"Well since you're in good spirits," Elijah says and your smile drops.

"Elijah, no."

"Your family is growing impatient with your prolonged absence."

You groan. "Have they gotten Bonnie to track me?"

"Yes, but fortunately I thought about that in advance and have had you under a cloaking spell for quite some time now," Klaus says with a smirk. "They're not very happy with me at the moment."

"They never are," you muse. After a moment, you sigh a little as you lean more into Dwayne. "I'm gonna have to visit, aren't I? Just to shut them up."

"Yes."

"When do we leave?"

"As soon as our witch gets your new friends their daylight jewelry."

Klaus and Elijah smirk as it takes a moment for their words to sink in. And when they do, you jerk out of Dwayne's hold. "Wait, what?! You're getting them-"

Klaus shrugs as if it's no big deal. "It's more for me than it is for you. No one other than Elijah and I know your new friends are a different breed of vampires. It'll be a nice surprise when Damon steps out of line."

You huff a laugh and then face the boys. "Would you guys even be interested in leaving Santa Carla for a bit if the jewelry works?"

"Uh, hell yes," Paul blurts.

Marko eagerly nods, Dwayne shrugs, and David frowns.

"We can't leave Santa Carla unprotected. If we do, other vampires are likely to move in."

"Fear not, I'll have some associates stay behind to make sure that doesn't happen," Klaus says. "And they'll even hunt down the wolf who bit YN, and any others trespassing since I'm assuming you boys run the entire city."

David doesn't seem too impressed, but with Paul and Marko overly eager, you can see that he doesn't want to squash their fun. "Are you sure these daylight rings will work for us?" He asks, looking at Elijah and Klaus.

"Yes. Though we figured rings wouldn't fit your aesthetic, so we have leather bracelets being fitted with the spelled stone. They should be ready in a day or two since the witch has to tweak the spell a bit."

"Well okay then."

"Yes!" You beam. Quickly grabbing hold of Dwayne's hand, you start tugging him away from the group. "So, while you all come up with a plan for our departure, Dwayne and I are going to go for a walk. Near death experience and all that, so I'm feeling a little bit foolish."

Elijah and Klaus immediately scowl, and you wink. "Love you, boys. Don't murder my friends."

Dwayne laughs as you hurriedly tug him away then, disappearing into the crowd of locals and tourists. You drag him past all the rides and booths, heading for a small, darkened pier. You lead him towards the very end, turning your back on the ocean and facing Dwayne as you lean against the railing. "Hi," you muse.

"Hi." He steps closer, caging you against the railing as he leans his head down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Glad to see you're not on death's door anymore."

"Feels good not to be on death's door anymore." You laugh, wrapping your arms around his waist so you're hugging him. "So, are you ready to get out of Santa Carla for a few days?"

"Depends. Do you think these bracelets will work?"

"Yes. The witches aren't dumb enough to double cross the Mikaelson's."

"Mhm. And what should we expect in Mystic Falls? What should I expect in Mystic Falls?"

You slowly grin. "Is this your way of asking if I left anyone behind, Dwayne?"

"Yes."

"God, I love that you're so blunt." You quickly lean up to peck his lips. "And no. I didn't leave anyone behind. I'm older than my sister's friend group, so I didn't go there with any of the boys. I almost had a fling with Damon, but I refused to play into his games when I realized he was doing anything to rile up my sister and his brother. And then there's that whole thing that happened with Caroline, and I've never forgiven him for it. I don't know how my sister managed to look past it."

"What thing?"

"Damon lured Caroline to bed, using her to feed and fuck. Sometimes, he'd show her what he was and practically brutalize her before compelling her to forget and then do it all over again the next night. He pretty much raped her and now my sister believes he's the love of her life."

Dwayne scowls. "She the girl that turned the same night as you?"

"Yep. She knocked him on his ass when all her memories returned, but she was just expected to fall in line and treat him as a friend when all was said and done."

"That's messed up."

"Yeah." You heave a sigh, shrugging. "Their whole friend group is toxic as hell which was the main motivator for me getting the hell out of there. And now I gotta return so they know I'm alive and well, so they can stop blaming Elijah and Klaus for anything."

"If this Damon guy so much as looks at you wrong..."

"Then I give full permission to snap his neck or rough him up some. Just don't kill him because then I'll never hear the end of it."

"No promises."

You laugh and kiss him once more. "Fair enough. Now let's go do some gross couple-y shit and piss off a few humans before we're stuck with your brothers and my family for a week."

It took nearly two days for Klaus' witch to pull through, delivering the bracelets to your hotel suite that the Mikaelson's had been staying in with you. The three of you then left for the cave where Klaus urged you to wake your friends before the sun set so they could try their bracelets. They'd been none too happy to be woken, but all too eager to try the bracelets once you told them they were done.

Paul, being the guinea pig, put his bracelet on and cautiously held his hand in a ray of sunlight. When his hand didn't smoke or burst into flames, he stepped fully into the light and held his breath before letting out a whoop of delight.

Another perk that came with the bracelet was that once the bracelets had been secured around their wrists, they all noticed that they weren't fatigued by the sun anymore. The lost boys took great pleasure in leaving the cave and standing atop Hudson's Bluff in broad daylight, and then Klaus urged everyone to hurry because Santa Carla was very much beneath him.

While Klaus called some contacts to be stationed around the little town, while also giving them the task of hunting down any werewolf in Santa Carla, you let your hotel know that you'd be gone for a week. Elijah assured the boys they'd have everything once they reached Mystic Falls, and then it wasn't long until everyone was loaded up onto a private jet.

. .

There's a large SUV waiting at the airport just outside of Mystic Falls and you all pile in with Elijah getting behind the wheel. And instead of driving straight to their home, Elijah drives through the town so the boys can see just exactly where it is you came from.

"Everything's so.. clean," Marko muses as he stares out a window.

"I can't believe you grew up here," Paul then adds. "These people aren't gonna chase us out of town with pitchforks and torches, are they?"

You laugh. "Not the humans, but my family and friends will most definitely try."

Klaus points out the Mystic Grill and that it'll be where everyone will make their grand entrance after the boys don appropriate attire. And then it's off to their precious mansion and you take great joy in the boys' impressed expressions upon seeing it for the first time.

"Max's beach house has nothing on this house," Paul says in awe.

"You know where your room is, Miss Gilbert," Elijah says as you enter the foyer of the mansion. And with a lingering stare and then a sigh, he adds, "And if your beau wants to stay with you, that's fine with us." You meet Dwayne's stare and wiggle your eyebrows, earning a smile and nod in return. "As for the rest of you, please follow me so we can get you situated."

"Shower and change," Klaus calls out on his way towards his studio. "The fun begins in one hour."

Dwayne follows you to your room as Elijah shows everyone else to theirs. He walks in behind you, taking in the extravagant room and lavish decor. Dwayne's eyebrow arches. "You grew up like this?"

You chuckle as you open a closet to choose an outfit for yourself. "No. The Mikaelson's are filthy rich compared to everyone in this town. I lived in a much smaller, less fancy house."

"Yet you're completely at home here."

"When you meet my sister and her friends later, you'll understand why I've spent so much time here." You pull out an outfit and turn towards Dwayne. "Now go shower while I get Elijah to deliver whatever clothes he has for you. I'll shower in Rebekah's room."

"Or we can shower together."

"Absolutely not!" You hear Klaus' shout all the way from downstairs.

Laughing, you nudge Dwayne towards the shower and then go in search of Elijah. You ask for Dwayne's clothing to be delivered to your room while you use Rebekah's shower. You hurriedly shower and change, and when you exit you find Rebekah waiting on her bed.

"So who's the riff raff?" She asks.

"Hello to you too, Bex," you muse. At her expectant expression, you say, "They're my new friends."

"Sex friends?" She wiggles her eyebrows.

"Ew. No." You pause a beat and then, "Well.."

"I knew it. Which one is it?"

"Dwayne. He's showering in my room so I don't think you've seen him. And unfortunately, there's been no sex. Not yet at least."

She grins. "Where did you meet them?"

"Santa Carla. It's where I've been staying and plan to stay now," you admit. "They, uh, they're vampires. Not our kind, but the kind that look truly monstrous when their faces change. And they can fly."

"Well, that's interesting."

"Not as interesting as the fact that we're not telling anyone what they are unless they have to intervene in some drama."

Rebekah's eyes light up and you laugh at her sudden interest. "So what's the plan?"

"We're all going to the Grill just so everyone can see that I'm alive and well, and that your brother isn't keeping me in a dungeon somewhere. We'll probably be here for a week before we go back to California."

"Excellent. We're having a party."

"No."

"Can it be one of those fancy parties?" You startle at the voice, turning to see Paul and Marko standing in the doorway. "We really want to see YN in a poofy dress."

"Absolutely not."

"Ohhhh. A ball!"

You sigh, knowing it's a losing battle. You glare at your friends, but then take a moment to take in what you're actually seeing. Without the dirty jeans, mesh shirts, and tattered jackets, the boys actually look pretty decent. Marko kept his hair the same, but you were surprised to see Paul's hair in a messy bun. Both wore stylish ripped skinny jeans, band tees, and Doc Martens. "You boys clean up well."

Marko smirks. "You should see David."

When your brain reboots, you hurriedly step into your own shoes before rushing down the stairs with the laughing boys behind you. You find Elijah and David in the kitchen, most likely drinking blood from a mug since Elijah made it clear there was no killing within the town limits, and gape. David stands there in a burgundy dress shirt with the top two buttons left open, a black winter peacoat with its collar popped, fitted jeans, and brown boots.

"Keep staring like that and Dwayne will get jealous."

Your jaw clicks shut and then you can't help but laugh. "Enjoying the fresh clothes?"

"It's better than using the clothes of our victims."

You catch sight of Rebekah's nose wrinkling and you laugh. "Yeah. Definitely better than stealing from the dead."

You properly introduce Rebekah to David, Paul, and Marko, and let them chat as she asks to see their vampire face. Paul happily obliges and even the blonde Original is impressed with the difference between your breed of vampires. Klaus soon joins the group, and you're all enjoying warmed up blood from the fridge when you see Dwayne enter from the corner of your eye.

Turning to face him, your gaze sweeps along him from head to toe. He's in a white dress shirt that's been left unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, snug faded jeans resting on his hips, and black boots adoring his feet. His hair has been pulled into a ponytail, only on the last loop through he didn't pull his hair all the way through and left the strands trapped so it's all hanging above his neck still.

And holy hell does he look good.

"Maybe telling you boys to shower was a mistake." Rebekah snorts at your ogling and you snap out of it before making your way to Dwayne. "Hi." You kiss his cheek. "You look nice."

"Right back at 'ya."

"As bloody adorable as you two are," Rebekah says, "can we go? It's been a while since I've annoyed your friends."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go."

Rebekah isn't too keen on squishing herself between two strangers, so she takes her own vehicle. And not wanting her to drive alone, you grab Dwayne's hand and lead him along until you're pushing him towards the backseat of her car while climbing into the passenger seat yourself. He's quiet on the drive, but listens as Rebekah asks you about your travels.

When Rebekah finally parks at Mystic Grill, you get out and immediately wrap your hand around Dwayne's. You're giddy as you get closer to the front entrance, ignoring Rebekah's teasing. Then upon entering the establishment, you scan the place for Elijah or Klaus or the other boys. And a moment later, Paul's eager waving from the back catches your attention.

Rebekah saunters her way through Mystic Grill while you and Dwayne follow. They've pushed three tables together with Elijah and Klaus sitting on either end. Paul and Marko are sitting across from each other, closest to Klaus, and David is sitting near Elijah. Rebekah chooses the seat across from David, closest to Elijah, which forces you and Dwayne to sit across from one another instead of side by side.

Elijah tells the table to order whatever they want, and there's a mad scramble for the menus when a handful are dropped off.

"YN?"

You glance up and over your shoulder, and smile politely at the blonde haired, blue eyed ex-boyfriend of your sister. "Hey, Matty. Long time no see."

He smiles, but then that smile falters when he notices the company you're keeping. "Are you, uh, are you good?"

"Never been better," you muse. "And you?"

"It's Mystic Falls." He shrugs. "You know how it is."

"Yeah. I do."

A beat passes and then Matt clears his throat. "So what can I get everyone to drink?"

Elijah, Klaus, and David all get bourbon, Rebekah and Dwayne get sweet tea, Marko gets lemonade, and you and Paul order Coke.

As Matt takes his leave, Rebekah starts to chuckle. "Well if your sister didn't know you were in town, she will now."

"I know," you groan. "I know we're here to ruffle some feathers, but I was hoping we would be able to eat in peace."

"Are they really that bad?" Marko asks.

You shrug. "If Damon wasn't involved, it would be tense but a decent time. But since Damon will be involved, he'll do his best to antagonize one or all of the Mikaelson's. Maybe even you guys since you're new and friends of mine."

"Well we do love some good verbal spars." Paul wiggles his eyebrows and you playfully roll your eyes.

Matt soon returns with the drinks and then takes everyone's order. Elijah and Klaus don't want any food, but all the lost boys order cheeseburgers and fries whereas you and Rebekah opt for chicken wraps and a basket of cheese fries each.

You barely have a moment to relax before your name's being called again and you mentally groan. Turning in your seat, you plaster on a friendly smile. "Hey, sis."

Elena stands there, happy yet anxious as she takes in those you're sitting with. "When did you get in?"

As she takes a step closer, you stand and awkwardly hug her. "Earlier today," you say. "Made some friends and what not, and thought I'd show them where I grew up."

"So you picked up some stragglers and thought it was a good idea to show them where you live?"

Your gaze slides to the right and you sigh. "Lived. Past tense. And hello to you too, Damon."

Damon smirks, blue eyes sparkling with a little malice as Elena stammers. "L-Lived? What are you talking about?"

You shrug. "Mystic Falls isn't that great of a fit for me anymore, so I found a place that was."

"So where do you live now?"

"Out of state."

"YN." Elena frowns. "I don't really think-"

"Drop it, Elena." You shake your head at her. "I'm the older sister here. If I wanna settle elsewhere, I will."

"But-"

"Elena."

Elena frowns, but wisely shuts her mouth, and Damon gestures to the side with his head. "As adorable as this squabble is, maybe we should take this outside. Family business and all."

"Funny. Last I checked, you are a Salvatore and these two lovely ladies are Gilberts," Elijah drawls.

Damon's smirk falls. "Stay out of it, Mikaelson."

Paul and Marko snicker as David and Klaus grin, but Dwayne is watching the conversation rather closely.

You roll your eyes with a sigh and stand up. "Whatever. I'm not going outside though. I'm starving and Matt will be back with our food any minute now."

You walk towards the hallway where the bathrooms are, leaning against the wall. Elena and Damon are on your heels, and they don't waste a second laying into you.

"What the hell, YN? You disappear for a year and then come back, only to let me know you're not even living here anymore?" Elena says.

"We're not children anymore. I don't have to run my relocation past you."

She gapes. "Well, no, but-"

"But nothing."

"Knock off the attitude," Damon says through gritted teeth. "We get that you think you're important because the Mikaelson's are manipulating you, but enough is enough. It's time to stop playing nice with the enemy and come home to your family like a good little girl."

You hiss in Damon's direction, taking a step towards him. "Last I checked, you're not family. Shut up and wait outside like the good little lap dog you are."

"YN!"

Before you can blink, a hand is around your throat and you're being shoved back into the wall. "Careful, YN. I might not be able to make your life difficult with the Mikaelson's, but you brought four brand new, very fragile guys into the mix."

"Damon, stop."

"I'll have no problem picking them off one by one until you behave."

Instead of rising to the bait, you slowly smirk at him. "I'd like to see you try."

"Am I interrupting?"

You, Elena, and Damon turn towards the open end of the hallway, and you smile at the sight of Dwayne. A very tense Dwayne. "Hi, baby," you coo. "And no, you're not. Is our food at the table?"

"Yes."

"I'll be right there." Dwayne glares at Damon before giving you a nod, and then he turns to walk away. As soon as he's out of sight, you reach up and grab onto Damon's wrist, yanking his hand from your neck and snapping his wrist. He hisses in pain and Elena gasps. "Touch me again and it'll be your neck I snap next," you snarl.

He sneers right back at you. "You have a weakness. Good to know."

"You go after him and I will fucking kill you," you suddenly seethe, fangs elongating in your sudden spike of anger. Then looking at your sister, you say, "If any of my friends are hurt by the hands of your little boy toy, we are done. For good. And given what we are, dear sister, that's a long time to have no contact with your only sister."

Elena sadly shakes her head. "You've changed."

"You're damn right I have. You and your enemies made me into the person I am today. I am done being talked down to and being walked all over. You have a problem, fix it yourself. Stop playing the woe is me card and deal with your life as it is. You wanted to lay with vampires? Well congratulations, Elena, you're laying with vampires and dealing with all the issues that come with the life you chose."

"I didn't want this!"

"Of course you did," you drawl. "Otherwise you would have turned the other way when Stefan let the vampire secret out of the bag. Now if you'll excuse me, I got a meal to eat and friends to show around."

You slam your shoulder into Damon on your way out of the hall, shaking your head in amusement when you catch sight of every Mikaelson and lost boy already staring at you. Paul has moved next to Marko, leaving the spot next to Dwayne empty for you.

"You good?" Dwayne asks as soon as you sit down.

"Peachy." Under the table, Dwayne pulls your chair closer to his and lays a hand rather possessively atop your thigh. You grin. "Now can we eat? I'm starving."

The first night back in Mystic Falls is fairly quiet. Your only run-ins were with Damon and Elena, but you did get text messages from Jeremy, Caroline, and Bonnie. Your brother and friends seem excited to know you're back in town, but explain their surprise with your sudden move. Jeremy tries to not so discreetly discover where you're now living, but you don't give up the location. You just tell them all that you're happy and you rather not say where you're living because Damon will do anything and everything to drag you back to Mystic Falls the moment something displeases Elena.

And the fact that none of them argue your point lets you know that they completely understand.

You and Rebekah then got to show the boys Mystic Falls at night, letting them see just how drastically different your hometown is compared to Santa Carla.

The boys, thankfully, don't cause any issues and your first night is easy.

Your second day in Mystic Falls, however, is proving to be testing your patience.

"I. Do. Not. Want. A. Birthday. Party."

"Too bad." Rebekah smirks. "We're throwing you one."

"You're my least favorite Mikaelson." Turning around, you sigh and pout. "Elijah, tell your sister no party."

"Sorry, Miss Gilbert. No can do."

"You're no fun. Klaus?"

Klaus merely smirks, attention never wavering from the canvas he's been painting his next masterpiece on.

"So, is this going to be a party party? Or a fancy party? I was digging those poofy dresses I saw in YN's phone," Paul muses.

Rebekah gasps as she perks up, and you groan. You'd hope they'd forgotten about that.

"No ball!" You snap. "I can deal with pretty dresses and suits, but nothing too fancy."

Rebekah immediately pouts, but she gives in fairly easily. "Fine. Then I'm inviting anyone and everyone."

"Fine."

"And your boys have to wear suits."

"Duh. If I'm dressing up, so are they."

"And cutting their hair."

"Absolutely not."

"Yes." Rebekah scowls. "Mullets are gross."

You shrug. "I don't disagree, but Marko and David somehow manage to pull it off."

"They need to go."

"Nope. Paul and Dwayne can do with a trim, but you're not touching the mullets."

"YN."

"Rebekah."

"They're gross."

"It's their style."

"Elijah!"

"Klaus!"

Both you and Rebekah, who'd managed to end up toe to toe in your back and forth, turn to look at her brothers. But instead of just finding the two of them, you find the lost boys watching along with amusement dancing in their eyes.

You and Rebekah both roll your eyes then, huffing simultaneously, which earns laughter in return.

"So, are we talking a live band or a DJ?" She then asks, ignoring all the men in the room.

"DJ, definitely."

"Food?"

"Anything small that can be eaten by hand."

As you and Rebekah walk off to plan, Elijah stares at the boys and stands. "Well since we're throwing a party, we must be fitted for new suits. Let's go, boys."

Paul whoops, but his delight only lasts as long as it takes for Klaus to remind him that he has to get his hair trimmed.

. .

After spending the day planning a party with Rebekah and brainstorming what kind of dress you're looking for, you can finally call it a night after Klaus tells you not to wait up. Both he and Elijah have kept the boys out and about, none of them complaining because they're still awed about being able to be walking around in the sunlight annoying people that Klaus doesn't care for.

After showering and slipping into a tank top and pajama shorts, you lay in bed while scrolling through social media. You hear when all the men/boys return and can't help but smile when you hear Elijah's exasperation with his brother over telling a rather bawdy joke to your friends.

Then it isn't long until Dwayne enters your room and you put your phone down as he takes a clothing bag to hang in the closet. "Have fun?" You muse.

He gives you a deadpan look over his shoulder and you laugh. Dwayne then toes off his boots, sliding into the bed next to you with a quiet groan. "You know, I always wondered what it'd be like to have money." He drapes his arm over your stomach, dragging you closer to him so his nose is pressed to your temple as he breathes you in.

"And…?"

"It's insane. Klaus was compelling everyone to get what he wanted, but Elijah was just dropping bills left and right without a care in the world."

You turn your head and kiss the underside of his jaw. "No drama?"

"We ran into that Damon guy and his own brother. They kept dropping not so subtle hints that Elijah and Klaus were dangerous individuals, and he wouldn't be surprised if our bodies were found in the woods sooner rather than later."

You snort with laughter. "And what did you guys say in return?"

His lips twitch. "Klaus pretended to compel us all, fed off Paul, and told them to mind their business. I thought that Stefan guy was about to blow a vein when Damon gritted his teeth and mentioned that we were important to you."

"Please tell me Klaus' bite didn't poison Paul," you grumble.

"Nah. That was the only upside of the night. We found that a werewolf's bite doesn't affect us like it did you. Elijah's impressed and is going to look into our breed of vampire."

"Well that's good, I guess. Did everyone get fitted?"

"Yeah, we're all good."

"Good." You scoot up and kiss square on the lips. "Now go shower and change into something more comfortable than jeans. I'm in the mood for some cuddles."

Dwayne grins and kisses you again, lingering a little longer and leaving you breathless after scraping his fangs along your bottom lip. "Just cuddles?"

"Hmm? No," you answer in a bit of a daze. "Definitely not. Now hurry up."

#the lost boys x reader #lost boys x reader #dwayne x reader #the lost boys imagine #lost boys imagine #lost boys fanfiction #the lost boys fanfiction #dwayne #david #paul #marko #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #the vampire diaries #tvd #elena gilbert #damon salvatore

676 notes · View notes

ankoluvly · 3 months

Text

ྀི Part 2 to my lil Lorenzo prompt, find it here

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You stand still, thinking of what just happened. how he just casually pushed his way back through the crowd, as if he didn’t just threaten to blackmail you.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “that’s not love Y/N.” You hear the voice of your friend, Pansy Parkinson say, coming up next to you. staring daggers at where Lorenzo pushed his way away from you. “You..You don’t know him like i do Pansy..” You mutter in response.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . dammit, ‘why are you like this?’ you thought to yourself. you hated him but you couldn’t help but defend him at all times. and you truly couldn’t imagine living everyday, going to hogwarts, attending classes, et cetera, without him. and he truly could be such a sweetheart at times, he loves you, and you love him. you could feel your chest tighten in pain at just the thought of losing him. him not waking you up everyday, his romantic notes, forcing you to cuddle with him, his empty threats..well…half empty threats..or just, threats, would be more accurate.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “blackmailing you? i don’t think i need to know much more about him,” Pansy remarks sarcastically, taking a shot before dragging you into the crowd of people dancing, towards a secluded area.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Look,” Pansy said pointing towards a couch just a couple feet away. you wish you could say you were shocked at the scene. “He just blackmailed you and then he just goes back to making out with that slut.” she added sarcastically. Pansy has had it out for Daphne for quite awhile, ever since she made her move on Draco (which he not so respectfully declined)

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “That’s just Lorenzo..and he’s drunk. how many times have i cheated on him when dr-“ you couldn’t even finish before Pansy cut you off.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Girl don’t even start that shit, you guys were practically broken up. You’re the victim, not him.” she said, taking a sip of her drink. glaring daggers at the both. you sigh in defeat, you knew she had a point, but you’re only human, you can’t help the fact you’re attracted to him.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . After a couple seconds of silence and awkward, staring around at people at the party, Pansy sighed frustrated. “Look i will support you either way, so atleast get that whore off your man.” she exclaimed, giving you a slight, pitiful smile.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You looked over at Lorenzo and Daphne, debating. you couldn’t deny you’d love to ruin Daphnes night tonight- but part of you got excited at the thought of frustrating Enzo even more, the sex afterwards is so good. but then again- Daphne would also tell you things about how she could take Lorenzo away from you- and bragged about how he ‘cheated’ on you with her, because she fails to understand how you guys were broken up at the time. hm..what should you do..?

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Fuck it,” you muttered to yourself, making your way over to Daphne and Lorenzo.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Enz? what the fuck?” you say frustratedly, crossing your arms as you stared at the two, Daphne frustratedly turning to look at you. “Just hanging out with Daphne love,” Lorenzo replied almost amused, “Don’t you think you could wait a little bit? me and her were having lots of fun.” He added with a smirk.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You rolled his eyes at his amusement, you knew what he was doing. “Get the fuck off of him, fucking whore..” You muttered as you pushed Daphne off.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Let’s go, like now?” You said as you grabbed Lorenzos wrist tight- as if you were trying to snap it.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Lorenzo was looking at you almost in awe at how demanding you were acting- you were hot this way. he didn’t even care about your bruising grip on his wrist as he chuckled to himself, “Sure thing, sweetheart.” He says as he gets himself up, quickly forgetting about Daphne, who stared in frustration at the two of you. As Lorenzo gladly let you pull him along towards the exit of the Slytherin common room.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You two were in for a long night.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Written by Ankoluvly, 2024 on tumblr!

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Could you tell the end was rushed? lol. i’ve been so fucking busy but finally have some spare time so i decided to rush and get this out. Might make part 3 with the actual smut but i’m not that confident in my smut writing yet 😔 people were also asking for part 2 so i really wanted to release this! hope you guys don’t mind

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Here is part two! i’m so sorry for the delay, @yashneyx @hisparentsgallerryy

81 notes · View notes

scary-grace · 2 months

Text

the new postmodern age (chapter two) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Written for @threadbaresweater's follower milestone event, and the prompt 'a day at the beach'! Congratulations on the milestone, and thanks for giving me a chance to write this fic.

dividers by @enchanthings

Before the war, you were nothing but a common criminal, but in the world that's arisen from the ashes, you got a second chance. Five years after the final battle between the heroes and the League of Villains, you run a coffee shop in a quiet seaside town, and you're devoted to keeping your customers happy. Even customers like Shimura Tenko, who needs a second chance even more than you did -- and who's harboring a secret that could upend everything you've tried to build. Will you let the past drag both of you down? Or will you find a way, against all odds, to a new beginning? (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3

Chapter 2

One of the dubious perks of living in a coastal town is fairly mild weather in the spring, but every so often it kicks up with a vengeance. The windows in your apartment are rattling with the wind and rain, and you keep getting power outage alerts on your phone. Your power is still on, along with about half the town’s, and the café has backup generators if anything goes wrong. But tomorrow’s the one day a week that the café is closed, anyway, so you’re curled up on your couch under a blanket, trying to make yourself read a book instead of scrolling your phone. It’s going all right, but when the phone buzzes on the coffee table next to you, you pounce on it with shameful speed.

It's a text from Tenko – Shimura. It’s from Shimura, who you’ve gotten into the bad habit of calling Tenko in your head. my power just went out

that sucks. You wonder if you should offer to help, but what would you even do? did you lose any files?

autosave. but the deadline’s tomorrow and my WiFi went down too. That still begs the question of why Shimura’s texting you about it. town still has power. can I hang out in the café and finish the project?

Now you get it. Shimura’s in hot water and he needs you to bail him out. It’s the kind of thing you’d do for a friend. A lot of things you and Shimura do are the kind of things friends do.

Not that you’re friends. You never see each other outside the café; you ran into him at the grocery store a few months after he started coming in and he pretended he didn’t know you. But inside the café, when it’s quiet, the two of you talk. You learned what he does for work – beta-testing computer games and identifying spots that need a patch – and he learned that you have basically no life outside your job, which he can’t judge you for because he doesn’t have one, either. When the two of you traded phone numbers, it was a work-related thing. Since the babkas have gotten popular, he texts on days when he’s planning on coming in, so you know to set one aside.

Except that’s not all he texts you about. He texts you about the most random things, in massive bursts between days of radio silence, and when he comes into the café again, he keeps talking about whatever it was like you’d been talking about it the whole time. It’s like he has no idea how to carry on a text conversation. Or how to have a friend.

You don’t have a great idea of how to have a friend, either. Let alone a friend you have feelings for. If Shimura was just your friend, you’d have texted back by now. Shimura texts again. I get it if you don’t want to come back into town when the weather’s shit. i would have asked about your place but I didn’t want to make it weird

Not weird. You answer without thinking too hard about it. I don’t know how much longer I’ll have power. You should probably come over now.

yeah. address? Shimura gives a thumbs-up once you send it. thanks.

You give him a thumbs-up, too. You’re already worried you’ve made a mistake.

The power’s still on by the time Shimura knocks on your door, which is one of your worries dealt with. You’ve changed out of your pajamas, and you moved stuff off the kitchen table and hid it in the hall closet so he’ll have a space to work. You’re feeling almost normal by the time you go to let him in, and he slinks through the door, looking like a drowned rat and shivering like a kicked puppy. “It sucks out there,” he mumbles. “My heat went out, too.”

“Mine’s still on. And I’ve got blankets and stuff if you want them,” you say. Shimura is still wearing his mask, but his hoodie is soaking wet, and when he takes down the hood you see that his hair is wavier than you thought. Or maybe it’s just the water. “The WiFi password is on the fridge. Make yourself at home.”

Shimura takes off his shoes and pushes his hair out of his face to peer at your apartment. “Nice place.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not. It’s not a mess and there aren’t holes anywhere. It’s nice.” Shimura gives you a look you don’t know how to interpret. “Thanks for letting me come over. Uh –”

He runs out of whatever he was going to say, but you’ve got no idea what he was going to follow up with. The two of you stand there for a second. Shimura’s hoodie is so sopping wet that it’s making puddles on the floor. “Okay,” you say finally. “Give me your hoodie and I’ll put it in the dryer.”

“You have a dryer? I drag my shit to the laundromat.”

You used to, but then you found out about all the petty things civilians do to make people like you feel unwelcome. Shimura hasn’t noticed because Shimura’s undercover. You wait while he peels off the hoodie. You’ve never seen him without it, barely seen him with the hood down, and beneath it, his clothes are just as oversized. His arms are bare and pale – and scarred. You wrench your eyes away, take the hoodie to the dryer, and take the opportunity to compose yourself along the way. You have a friend over. Normal people have friends over. You’re helping a friend. It doesn’t get more normal than that.

When you come back, Shimura’s hard at work at the kitchen table, laptop open and notebook at his side. You don’t want to distract him. You have a feeling the two of you are racing the clock with the storm and the power lines, so you sit down on the couch with your blanket and pick up your book. No way are you going to be able to read. When you’re at work, you have a million things to do. Right now, there’s nothing for you to do but watch Shimura.

He's focused on whatever he’s doing, typing fast but lopsided. It takes you a second to figure out what the problem is, but once you do, you’re startled – two fingers on his left hand are basically paralyzed. Maybe that’s why he wears the gloves. His hair falls to his shoulders, and although it’s black, there’s a flatness to the color that tells you it’s not natural, and that he did it at home. Maybe you should offer to do it for him when his roots start to grow out. You’ve never seen the lower half of his face, but apparently you didn’t need to in order to give yourself a crush on him.

You like him. You’re being silly about it. And you’re staring. You stick your face back in your book.

But it can’t hold your attention for long when he’s here, and when you inevitably look back up, you find Shimura already watching you. “What?” you ask.

“Get over here. I need your help with something.”

“I don’t game.”

“It’s not about gameplay. It’s –” Shimura beckons to you impatiently, and you abandon your book and blanket to peer over his shoulder at the screen. “Something’s wrong with this stage. It looks like shit. I told the devs that, and they said I had to be more specific –”

“It’s the color saturation,” you say. Shimura looks up at you. “And the shadows are wrong. If the light source is supposed to be coming from above – like the sun – the shadows should be in different spots. Or there should be shadows, and there aren’t any. That’s why the character looks like – that.”

You glance away from the screen, at Shimura. “What kind of game is this?”

“It’s a dating sim. Shut up,” Shimura says. “I don’t get to pick what I test. What was that about the shadows?”

“They need to fix the lighting.”

Shimura looks irritated. “They’re gonna want specifics.”

“The stage looks flat because they haven’t added shading to match the light source,” you say. Shimura pulls up another document and types something into it. “Shading gives dimension. And the color saturation is too high. That’s why it looks like –”

“A fucking eyesore.” Shimura minimizes the document, then clicks a dialogue option to advance the game to the next screen. “Same problem here?”

You nod, but it’s not the only problem. “Is this supposed to be a schoolgirl sim? High school girls don’t talk like that.”

“How do you know?”

“I was one,” you say. You read the response to Shimura’s chosen prompt again. “This skews really young. Like, twelve or something.”

Shimura’s face twists with disgust. “How do we fix that?”

“Fewer exclamation points,” you suggest. Shimura writes that down. “Does it have to be high school girls? For this game?”

“They’re supposed to be college girls so it’s legal. The outfits are how the dev wants it.” Shimura rolls his eyes. “But he’s a pro hero, so it doesn’t matter that he’s a perv. Right?”

“I didn’t know there were pros making computer games,” you say. “I know a lot of them have side hustles, but – pervy dating sims?”

“Pervy dating sims. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“I’ve been captured seventeen times and only twice by cops,” you say. “I don’t really have a bubble.”

“Seventeen times,” Shimura repeats. “I can’t tell if that’s a flex or not. Who got you?”

“Um –” You think it over. “Kamui Woods, back when he was field-testing that Lacquered Chain Prison thing.”

“That thing fucking sucks.”

“Tell me about it. Death Arms nabbed me at one point, but he dropped me when I turned him green.” You’re still proud of that one, even if you got in worse trouble for it than usual. “Endeavor actually caught me tagging something once. I would have been screwed, except I guess he was looking for a more high-profile case.”

“So he just let you go?”

“Yep.” You think back on the other times you got booked. “One time Fatgum got me. And then some work-study kids from Shiketsu High.”

Shimura snorts. “Kids got you?”

“My quirk’s not very dangerous,” you say. By that point you’d learned that turning people different colors could net you an assault charge. “And then it was Eraserhead. Four or five times. I can camouflage with my quirk and he could turn it off.”

Shimura nods. He’s clicking through screens on the dating sim. “What about you?” you ask. “Who caught you?”

“I only got taken into custody one time,” Shimura says. “I had run-ins with, uh – Eraserhead, Present Mic, Thirteen, All Might, Endeavor, Kamui Woods, Ryukyu, Miruko –”

Those are all big-name heroes. You have to wonder what Shimura did. “But I guess Midoriya’s the one who made it stick,” Shimura concludes. Midoriya? It takes you a second, and Shimura fills in. “The one with the stupid name. Deku.”

“Oh.”

Deku’s active hero career was fairly short, and all his fights were big ones. Shimura must have been working for somebody powerful before the war, or during it. Shimura’s shoulders stiffen, suddenly. “Forget I said that.”

“Okay,” you say. Maybe he’s embarrassed about getting captured by a student, even if you just told him you did the same thing. “If you forget I got arrested seventeen times.”

“Deal.” Shimura clicks through a few more screens, then curses. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” You peer at the screen, and Shimura blocks it. “Is it proprietary or something?”

“No, it’s porn,” Shimura says. He’s scowling. “There’s not one route in this game that doesn’t end with the player getting laid by three characters at once.”

Three seems like a lot, but – “Isn’t that kind of what dating sims are for?” you ask. Shimura shrugs. What little of his face you can see around the mask is flushed. “Wait, is this how you have to test them? Playing through every route?”

“And getting all the bonus cutscenes.” Shimura rolls his eyes. He glances at the screen. “Great. There’s audio.”

“What kind?” you ask. “You have to check if it works, right?”

“Maybe it’s background music,” Shimura says. He presses play.

It’s not background music. It’s exactly what you’d expect, and it’s painfully loud. Shimura scrambles to mute the game and pauses it two seconds after a shot of something anatomically improbable. “Let me guess – the lighting’s fucked up here, too. Right?”

“And the facial movements don’t match the audio,” you say. “Did the developers send you this before it was ready?”

“No, they’re just on a budget. This is as ready as it gets.” Shimura shows you a dialogue prompt. “Do women say stuff like this?”

“Um – no. Not as a first-time thing. If this is a first-time route.”

“It is.” Shimura groans. “I still have a quarter of the route left. Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“The couch. I need your help with this and you only have one chair at your kitchen table.”

Your couch is sort of messy. You shift the blankets and pillows around to make room for two. Shimura props his feet on the coffee table, sets a pillow on his lap, and balances the laptop on it. “If you spot any more off-balance graphics, tell me. I already made a note about the dialogue.”

“Can you turn the brightness up?” You sit down next to him. The contrast shifts, and you wince. “The light’s wrong.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. Unless that love interest is supposed to give off light.” You don’t know anything about this game. Maybe it actually is about glowing college girls in high school uniforms who really like foursomes. “If she isn’t, that’s a problem, because she’s the light source for the whole frame. And if she is, there’s no shading, so it’s flat again.”

“Ugh.” Shimura rolls his shoulders. “This is gonna be a long night.”

It’s going to be a long night, but it’s also sort of fun. You haven’t hung out with a friend in a while, and it’s nicer than you remember. You decide you want hot chocolate, so you make a cup for Shimura, too, and you learn a lot more about making erotic dating sims than you ever wanted to know. By the third porn interlude, Shimura’s basically out of patience. “This is a waste of time.”

“You’re getting paid for it, right?” you ask. Shimura nods. “Is there something you’d be doing if you didn’t have to do this?”

“Yeah. I’d be talking to you about something other than this dumb game.” Shimura hits the skip button five times in a row. “What were you doing when I texted?”

“Trying to read.” You point out the book on the coffee table and Shimura inspects it. “I used to read a lot when I didn’t have a phone, but it’s hard to get back into it when the phone is right there. That’s why I texted back so fast.”

Shimura’s frowning behind his mask. “Why didn’t you text me first?”

“To ask if your power was out and invite you over?” you ask, puzzled, and Shimura’s frown deepens. “I’d text you more if I thought I could get away with it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Um, just that I’m not sure how much you want to talk,” you say, “and I don’t want to annoy you. That’s it.”

“You know what’s annoying? That.” Shimura clicks through a few more screens. “We can’t talk at the café because you’re busy. You never ask to meet up when you aren’t busy. When else are we supposed to talk?”

“Shimura –” You must have missed something, somewhere. Some little detail that makes all of this make sense. The lights in your apartment flicker, and your stomach jolts. “I think the power’s going.”

“Shit.” Shimura starts typing faster, splitting his screen between the game and the document where he’s been making corrections. “Shit!”

“If the internet goes out, I can use my phone as a hotspot,” you offer.

“The signal won’t be strong enough. I have to send so many fucking screengrabs.” Shimura’s fingers fly across the keys. “If you want to help, start praying that the electricity holds out long enough for me to get this done.”

“I’ll pray,” you say. “I don’t want to be responsible for you losing your job and going back to a life of crime.”

Shimura laughs at that, raspy and sharp, and keeps typing. You watch as he clicks through stages, skips cutscenes he’s already played, hits a key on his keyboard that generates screengrabs of any stage he’s found an issue with, all while typing into a note document at the same time. He’s fast. You’ve never seen him work this fast in the café, but then again, you’ve never really gotten to observe him in the café, either. You’re always busy. Too busy to talk – at least not as much as Shimura wants to talk. He wants to talk to you more. Has he really been waiting for you to make the first move?

The lights flicker again, the room going dark for a split second before brightening up again. Shimura’s no longer typing – instead he’s watching a file upload to a server, progressing a few megabytes at a time. You switch from facetiously praying to actually praying. Your power only needs to hold out long enough for Shimura’s upload to finish.

The entire status bar on the upload turns green, and a checkmark appears, confirming it’s complete. A second later, your power goes out, plunging your apartment into near-total darkness.

Shimura breathes a sigh of relief. “That was close,” he says, and shuts the lid of his laptop, making the darkness complete. “Now I don’t have to return to my life of crime.”

“Good,” you say. “I’d be sad not to see you at the café again.”

He said he wanted to talk to you more, so it’s probably safe for you to say you’d be sad not to see him. Your eyes haven’t adjusted enough to make out more than Shimura’s shape in the darkness. “I looked up the NCRA thing. You could have gone for job training. Why’d you decide to open up a coffee shop?”

“I didn’t just want to make money.” You got asked this same question when you applied for the NCRA in the first place. “People always told me that I was selfish, because all criminals are selfish, so I wanted to make something for other people. I wanted to be able to give other people something I didn’t have when I needed it.”

Shimura sets his closed laptop on the coffee table with a quiet thud. “You really seized the day with this stuff, huh?”

“I didn’t want to live the way I was living before,” you say. “It was either stop living or try something else.”

“Did you think it would work?”

“I didn’t know,” you say. “I wanted to find out.”

That’s what it was, more than anything else. You told yourself you’d go one day at a time, that at the end of each day you’d decide if it was worth trying again tomorrow. At first it was out of spite. The early days of the NCRA were filled with detractors, people who thought criminals and villains deserved to rot in prison or worse, and every day you went without violating your probation was a day you spent pissing them off. But soon it was more than that. You worked on names for the café, too focused on finding the right one to pretend it didn’t matter. You taught yourself to use an espresso machine, and you wanted the chance to use it. You put your first mural up and started planning the next one. Without meaning to, surviving out of spite became surviving for yourself.

“Yeah,” Shimura says after a second. “I want to find out, too.”

Something about his tone of voice captures your attention. You turn to face him, turning on the flashlight on your phone, but the brightness makes you flinch. You lower it partially, and Shimura’s hand comes up to force it down the rest of the way. “Don’t,” he says. “I have to take off my mask.”

Anticipation puts a twist in your spine, and as your eyes readjust to the darkness, you see Shimura unhook one side of his mask, then the other, lowering it away from his face. You’ve never seen the lower half of his face before. “Why did you take it off if you don’t want me to see?”

“Because I want to kiss you and it would get in the way.”

You thought your crush on Shimura was going nowhere fast. You didn’t think there was any chance he’d want you, too. His gloved hands settle at your waist and stay there, shifting you closer to him. You feel his breath against your cheek a moment before his lips, dry and cracked, meet yours.

It’s a quick kiss. Quick, and tentative. He draws back, but he doesn’t go far. You can still feel his breath against your skin, and when you lean forward again, he kisses you a second time. A second time melts into a third, a fourth, blending so seamlessly into each other that you lose count. Kissing Shimura doesn’t set you on fire, but you can’t remember another time where you felt curious like this. Where you’ve wanted to see what another kiss will do, rather than losing patience and pulling away.

The power doesn’t come back on, and just like the darkness emboldened Shimura to take off his mask, it emboldens you to unfold your hands from your lap and touch him. His kisses grow more insistent as you run your hands along his back, when you rest them against his shoulders, fingers uncurling along the length of his collarbones. Shimura’s hands don’t leave your waist, but his grip on you tightens. It tightens further when you run your fingers along the side of his neck.

You’ve seen him scratching there, so it’s not hard to imagine it’s a sensitive place. You draw back from kissing him and press your lips against it, and Shimura speaks, his voice even raspier than usual. “Did you like me this whole time?”

“Huh?”

“Did you like me this whole time? You gave me free stuff when I came in.”

“I gave you discounted stuff,” you correct. You kiss his neck again. Shimura stirs discontentedly under your hands and mouth. “You were a new customer. I wanted you to come back.”

“You saved a pastry for me the day that hero showed up,” Shimura says. “Did you like me then?”

He’s really stuck on this. “Why do you want to know?”

“I couldn’t tell if you liked me or not. I thought you did, but I wasn’t sure.” Shimura’s head tilts, exposing more of his throat, but you’re more interested in his shoulder, partially revealed by the neck of his oversized shirt. “I want to know when.”

“It would have been when I saved the pastry for you, except you were kind of a dick that day,” you say. Shimura snorts. “After that. But before your birthday. I meant it when I said I’d go to your party.”

“You’d be the only one.” Shimura’s hands leave your waist, sliding beneath your shirt. He’s still wearing his gloves, but his exposed fingertips are rough. “Next year.”

He’s thinking way ahead. How do you feel about that? “Yeah,” you say, edging closer to him. “Next year.”

Part of you feels crazy for this. You’re crazy for making out with Shimura on your couch, yanking off his shirt and letting him unhook your bra, tangling your hands up in his hair and tugging it ever so slightly and feeling a sharp stab of desire when he gasps against your mouth. The rest of you doesn’t care. There will always be something within you that doesn’t evaluate risk quite right, that doesn’t care about the aftermath when something you want is right in front of you. Shimura is the first thing you’ve wanted in so long that’s got nothing to do with the faultless new life you’ve been trying to build. You want him, and some part of you will always be bad at saying no to what you want.

An alarm goes off on Shimura’s phone and scares the two of you apart. You’re closer to it, and when you grab it, you notice two things right away. First, that Shimura’s alarm is labeled “go to sleep, moron”. Second, the time. “It’s two am.”

“Shit.” Shimura lifts the phone out of your hands and silences the alarm. “You need to wake up in three hours.”

“The café’s closed tomorrow.” You’re sort of touched that he remembered how early you have to wake up on workdays. Your heart is still beating too fast. “Do you need to go?”

“The streetlights are still out.” It’s pitch-dark outside your window. “Can I crash on your couch?”

“You could,” you say. “The bed’s more comfortable, though.”

“Yeah, no shit. It –” Shimura’s head snaps up. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t done here.”

“Me, either.” Shimura stands up, and so do you. “Let’s go.”

Your apartment is tough to navigate in the dark, even for you, and Shimura bumps into every obstacle you know about and a few more you didn’t think would be a problem. He swerves to avoid the edge of your kitchen table and walks straight into the corner of the hallway that leads to your bedroom and the bathroom. “Fuck!”

“Back up a few steps,” you say. Shimura backs up. “Take two steps to the left. No, your other left.”

Shimura curses again, quieter. “Either this place is a fucking labyrinth, or –”

“You got so wound up you walked into a wall,” you say. Shimura snorts. “You’ve never been here before, Shimura. Take it easy.”

“Tenko.”

“Hm?”

“It’s Tenko,” he says. You get the faintest hint of butterflies in your stomach. “We made out for three hours and you invited me back to your bedroom. Quit it with the Shimura thing. I’ve been using your name the whole time.”

“Okay. Tenko.” You step forward until you’re right in front of him. “Hold out your hands.”

He holds them straight out at shoulder height and narrowly avoids smacking you in the face. You take them both and pull them down, noting how badly Tenko startles. “You’ve been using my first name, but you don’t want to hold my hands?”

“I don’t get why you want to hold mine.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you say, puzzled. You take one step back, and another, and another after that, until your back hits your bedroom door. “Like you said, I asked you to stay over.”

“I asked to stay over. You said –”

“I remember.” You can’t believe you did that. You don’t regret it, but you’re a little floored. “I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t want to hold your hands, too.”

Tenko steps forward, crowding you against the door, and kisses you without letting go of your hands. It feels different than the earlier kisses, not frantic or heated, not light or uncertain, not slow or deep or inexorable. This feels like a movie kiss, the kind at the end of a romcom where everything and nothing’s been resolved. Your life has never been a movie. There’s every chance that this is a mistake. But you don’t mind setting it aside for a little while, from now until you fall asleep. You keep kissing Tenko in your lightless apartment, and you don’t let go of his hands until it’s time to open your bedroom door.

You’re not hungover when you wake up, and when you think about it, you’re not actually confused. You know why it’s warmer in your bed than usual, why you feel like that, why the first thing that hits you is uncertainty, anxiety. Shimura came over last night, because the power went out in his apartment and he still had work to do. The power didn’t go out in your apartment until after his work was finished. And you shouldn’t be calling him Shimura in your head, because sometime between the couch and your bedroom, he told you to call him Tenko – and then he gave you a lot of chances to get used to saying his name.

Your face goes up in flames at the memory, but there’s no stopping it, and there’s no relief in waking up. When you turn your head, you see Tenko asleep on his side, the shadowy scars on his back interrupted here and there with scratches you left. It’s the scratches more than anything that hammer it home to you, more than the fact that you’re naked or the soreness between your legs. You slept with Shimura Tenko last night, and you let him come inside you, and you didn’t pee after sex like you’re supposed to do. You didn’t even clean up. What did you do?

You sit bolt upright in a panic, and beside you, Tenko stirs. “Too early,” he mumbles. One hand reaches out for you, closes three fingers and a thumb around your forearm, and yanks you back down. “Sleep.”

“I don’t usually sleep late,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I don’t usually sleep.” Tenko’s halfway back to it already. You glance at the hand holding your arm and realize that it’s ungloved. You’ve never seen Tenko without his gloves. “Don’t ruin it.”

You’re ruining his sleep by getting up? How? The question is answered when he flops back against you, forcing you into the role of the big spoon whether you want it or not. You know he doesn’t sleep well. You’ve seen dark circles under his red eyes, and he wouldn’t have set a two am alarm that calls him a moron for staying awake if going to sleep was easy for him. Tenko’s a guest, and your friend – maybe – and whatever else he is or isn’t, you slept with him last night, and he slept over. Maybe you should just be grateful that he didn’t flee the scene. You’ve heard guys do that the morning after. It’s not something you’ve seen before, because nobody you ever slept with before stayed the night. They wouldn’t have, even if you’d had a place to stay.

You lie back down and wrap your arm loosely around Tenko’s waist, turning your head and pressing your cheek against his shoulder. There’s scar tissue under your cheek, just like there was on his neck, just like there is on his back and his arms. Something horrible happened to him. You don’t have the first clue what it is, but it’s in his past. He’s here. You close your eyes and do your best to fall asleep.

When you wake up again, there’s light slanting through the window, and your ceiling fan is on. The power’s back. Tenko’s here, awake, but he must have left at some point, because he has his mask on again. He’s also got his phone in his ungloved hand, scrolling away at something. His other hand, still gloved, rests on your bare back. Not doing anything, not starting anything. Just – there.

You clear your throat. “You’re still here.”

“Where else was I gonna be?” Tenko gives you a weird look. His bedhead is absolutely horrendous. “I don’t have a new project yet and it’s your day off. So we can hang out.”

You think through what you were going to do today. It wasn’t much. Mostly errands – laundry, picking up a prescription. But you’d planned to do something fun, too. “Want to go down to the beach?”

“The beach?” Tenko sounds like he’s thinking about it. Then he shakes his head. “Too many people.”

“On the main beach. I go to a different one. It’s a lot quieter over there.” You look up at him. “After a storm like last night’s there should be tons of good stuff washed up. And if you want we can come back here to hang out afterward. Or go to your place.”

“My place is gross,” Tenko says. He grimaces behind the mask. “I mean – I’m not gross. It’s gross. Everything has a hole in it. And I don’t have, like – I don’t decorate. It’s not –”

“It’s okay,” you say. “We don’t have to go there today.”

“Some other time,” Tenko says. “I have to clean.”

“I’d have cleaned if I’d known you were coming over.”

“This place is clean.” Tenko’s fingers tap a pattern on your back. “Fine. I’ll go to the beach with you. If anything bites me I’m leaving.”

“We’re not getting in the water. It’s still too cold,” you say, laughing. “But sure. Fine. You’ve got a deal.”

“I’m serious. If something bites me –”

“I’ll protect you.” You sit up as he scoffs, leaning in to kiss his cheek over the mask. “You agreed to try it. It’s the least I can do.”

You can tell Tenko’s frowning when you draw back. “We had sex last night and I get a cheek kiss?”

“I’m not making out with you through your mask.”

“Close your eyes, then.”

You do. You’re not sure why Tenko’s so insistent on only taking off his mask when you can’t see his face, but you don’t have a problem respecting that boundary as long as he still kisses you every so often. Just like last night, you feel Tenko’s breath against your skin before his lips meet yours – but while last night you had curiosity, now you have memories, and heat floods through you as you kiss him. When Tenko pulls you down into his lap, you don’t argue with him. He's already half-hard, and he hisses sharply when you shift against him. It’s all too easy to imagine his expression.

You saw shadows of it last night, and you remember something else, too. “Did you make me close my eyes so I wouldn’t call you pretty again?”

“Not pretty,” Tenko mumbles. “You’re weird.”

Maybe, but you’re not wrong, and you also know it’s not a mood killer. A few more kisses and Tenko’s hard again, his hands grasping your hips and pulling you down towards his cock. No condom, again. You didn’t have one last night, and you’re still not on birth control, but – you sink down on him for the second time in twelve hours, and your thoughts flutter uselessly alongside your eyelids. You had your period a week ago. You’re not going to get pregnant. It’s – fine –

It’s so close to noon that you can barely call it morning sex, but if this thing with Tenko keeps up, morning sex is a strong contender for your favorite kind. Or maybe you just like riding him. Maybe both. It’s slow and easy, and Tenko leans back against the headboard, letting you do most of the work. He has one request, though. One thing that’s odd. “My right hand. Hold it down.”

You curl your fingers around his wrist and pin it to the headboard, and his hips jerk sharply. “Yeah. Don’t let go.”

His right hand’s immobilized, but his left stays on your hip, fingernails digging in as you increase your pace. With your eyes closed, with nothing to ground yourself but Tenko’s touch, it’s all too easy to lose yourself. You come on his cock in a rush of pleasure that leaves you gasping, and Tenko’s wrist strains in your grip as he loses control seconds later, a low moan wrenching itself out of his mouth. He’s shaking beneath you, and when he speaks, his voice is a wreck. “This was a bad idea,” he says, and your heart plummets. “Now I’m too tired for the beach.”

You laugh breathlessly. “I bet we can rally,” you say. “Let me know when it’s safe to open my eyes.”

Even once Tenko’s put his mask back on, he doesn’t want to let you out of his lap. You get up anyway and stagger to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the way. You definitely look like you had sex twice in the last twelve hours. You don’t look half as anxious as you feel. You vaguely remember telling yourself not to worry about what this means last night, but you and Tenko are going to have to talk at some point, because not knowing what’s going on is stressing you out.

You have to kick Tenko out of bed when you get back from the bathroom, because not changing the sheets is also stressing you out. So is not having very many choices in the breakfast department, even though you had no idea he was coming over and even less of one that he’d spend the night. You can provide coffee, at least – the espresso machine you learned on is still in your kitchen at home. You upgraded the café’s as soon as you possibly could.

You don’t have the usual flavored syrups here, but you mix two cappuccinos instead. Tenko pulls his mask to one side and tries a sip. “This is good,” he says, surprised in a way that should offend you but doesn’t. “Next time I’m ordering one of these.”

“Instead of the mocha?”

“Instead of the coffee.” Tenko takes another sip. “I found frozen waffles in the freezer. Can I eat those?”

“Yeah. The toaster’s over there.”

You discover a few seconds later that Tenko wasn’t actually planning to defrost the waffles before eating them, and you spend a little while being appalled before you show him how to toast them properly. The two of you eat standing up in the kitchen and finish your coffee, and Tenko plugs in his laptop while you switch out the laundry. “I can leave this here, right?” he asks when you come back to the living room. “We’re coming back after?”

“Yeah.” You watch as Tenko leaves his backpack but pockets his phone and keys. “Let’s go.”

Your anxiety was held at bay for a while, when you had things to do, but now it’s just the two of you walking side by side down the street, and you’re agonizing about whether to hold his hand. Tenko’s hand brushes with yours once, twice, before you lose patience. “Do you want to hold hands?”

Tenko’s eyes widen over his mask, and he doesn’t answer you, but a moment later, his hand closes awkwardly over yours. You haven’t held hands in a while. You don’t think this is how it’s supposed to work. But you’re holding hands with Tenko. That’s what you wanted. Everything’s fine.

“Why did you move here?” Tenko asks, as the two of you pass the street that leads down to the main beach and keep walking. “Out of everywhere?”

“It was strongly suggested by my probation officer that I get out of the city,” you say. “He thought I’d be less likely to fall back into my old ways if I was in a small town, since I’d actually know the people whose buildings I was defacing.”

“Didn’t you get busted for tagging your own house?”

“Yep.” Looking back, it was an incredibly stupid move. Your parents were already at the end of their rope with you. You should have known they’d cut you loose. “And I’d always wanted to live near the ocean, so it worked out. What about you?”

“I needed somewhere out of the way,” Tenko says. “It didn’t matter where.”

“And you got here five years ago?” You keep walking past the second beach access road. The road to your beach is a lot more out of the way. “We must have gotten here around the same time, then.”

“I was first. I’d been here three months when you started renovating that building.” Tenko’s eyes seem far away. “It was good timing. People were starting to ask questions about me, but then they switched over to you instead.”

“Glad I could help.” You feel funny about the fact that you were running interference for him, four and a half years before he ever set foot in your café. “And I’m glad you picked this place for a fresh start.”

“People like me don’t get fresh starts,” Tenko says. You’re about to point out that as a person without a record, all he has to do for a fresh start is move, but he speaks before you can. “I’m glad I ended up here, too.”

You’ll take it, even if you have a lot of questions about everything else he just said. The two of you walk in silence for a little while. It’s a cloudy day, with only faint sunbeams sneaking through, and the wind carries a faint chill even though it’s officially summer by now. “What should we do when we get back?” Tenko asks.

“We aren’t even there yet.”

“Yeah, but I want to know what I have to look forward to,” Tenko says. You roll your eyes. “You don’t play games. Do you want to learn?”

“Maybe,” you say. “I’m not going to be good at it. I’d slow you down.”

“You’ll get better fast if I’m the one teaching you,” Tenko says. “There are lots of different games. I can teach you to play any of them. Except dating sims.”

“You don’t like playing dating sims?” You fake surprise, and it’s Tenko’s turn to roll his eyes. “Do you have to test a lot of them?”

“I test whatever people send me. That’s why it’ll be easy for me to teach you,” Tenko says. “They’re all the same underneath. I haven’t played one in a long time that was actually a challenge.”

His grip on your hand relaxes slightly, his fingers sliding through yours to lace them together. “I used to really like games. It sucks.”

You squeeze his hand slightly. You’ve been there, or somewhere like it. It took you a long time to get back into art after you joined the NCRA. “Have you ever thought about making one? A game?”

“Like the kind I’d want to play?” Tenko seems to perk up for a second. Then his shoulders slump. “Nobody else would want to play it.”

“It sounds like you’ve got an idea, though.” You nudge him lightly with your shoulder and he stumbles. Oops. “Want to tell me about it?”

He hesitates for a while. A really long while. Then: “It’s mystery and horror, but not jump-scare horror. There are monsters, but they aren’t the real problem – or the ones you see aren’t the ones you should be worried about. It’s hard to explain. Anyway, the player character – it’s all going to be second-person – wakes up in a room they don’t recognize with no memory of how they got there. You can remember some things about your life, but how you got from where you’re supposed to be to stage one of the game is a total question mark. So there are two initial objectives. Figuring out what the hell is going on and getting the hell out of there.”

“Okay,” you say. It sounds stressful. “How do you do that? In the game.”

“You have to find a way out of the building first.” Tenko looks surprised that you’re still asking questions. “And that’s easy enough, so then –”

For a game he thinks no one else would want to play, Tenko’s put a lot of thought into it. He’s still talking about it as the two of you make the turn onto the beach access road – about the storyline of the game, the twists and reveals he’s thought of, the need to tweak the design and color palette to make everything seem just slightly off. The question of music or no music, and if music, what it should sound like. You like hearing him talk about something important to him, something he’s excited about, even if the concept of the game is giving you heart palpitations. You don’t think there are many things that make Tenko happy. You’d like to be one of them.

You get down to the beach at last, and just like you were hoping, it’s basically deserted. The tide is on its slow, steady way back in, but the beach is strewn with logs and twists of seaweed and kelp, and you’re willing to bet that there’s some sea-glass lying around in the debris along the high-tide line. Tenko studies it, significantly less ambivalent than he was a second ago. “When you said there’d be more stuff, I didn’t think you meant trees.”

“A storm can dredge up all kinds of things,” you say. “And last night’s storm was pretty bad. Come on.”

Tenko lets you pull him a little closer to the water, until you’re both walking on hard-packed sand. You get distracted by the debris field almost immediately, and you let go of Tenko’s hand without thinking so you can search for sea-glass more efficiently. Tenko’s tone of voice makes it clear he’s amused. “So this is like a scavenger hunt for you?”

“I guess.” You come up with a brown piece, followed by a green one, both of them old and smooth. “I want to make something for the café. I’ve been collecting it since I moved here.”

“Five years and you still don’t have enough?”

“The idea for the project keeps getting bigger,” you admit. Tenko snorts. “You can go on ahead if you want. I don’t want to slow you down.”

“I want to hang out with you.” Tenko crouches down next to you on the sand. “This is fine.”

You find multiple pieces in the time it takes him to find one, which he offers to you. It’s a pretty piece, sky-blue and frosted over, but you shake your head. “You found it. It’s yours.”

“I found it for you,” Tenko says, but you notice that he pockets it. And that he keeps looking.

The two of you wander from debris field to debris field, the tide inching up behind you. You’re comfortable with the silence – it’s how it usually is when he’s at the café, after all – but beneath the veneer of ease, questions are eating at you. Questions you don’t know how to ask or how to answer. Your crush on Shimura Tenko is intense, but it’s never been something real. It was just proof that you were getting back to normal, that you could live a life not dominated by the need to prove to the rest of the world that criminals are people, too. You never expected your crush to turn into sleeping with him, him staying the night, him wanting to hang out the next day – and even if you had expected it, you’d never have expected it to happen so fast.

“You were right,” Tenko says. You glance at him. “No people. It’s not as bad.”

You nod. “I’d come back if you wanted to,” Tenko says. He tilts his head, studying you. “Do you want to?”

“Do you want to do all this again?” you ask. He gives you a weird look. “The whole sex, sleepover, hang out the next day thing?”

“That’s what people do, isn’t it?” Tenko’s giving you an even weirder look now. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about –” The distress is building beyond what you can handle. You force yourself to take a deep breath. “What we are. To each other. After that.”

He’s not giving you a weird look anymore. He’s looking at you like you’re the dumbest person he’s ever met. You feel like the dumbest person anybody’s ever met, ever. “Like, are we friends with benefits, or –”

“You said you like me,” Tenko cuts you off. “I like you. Do you think I just – with anybody? I’ve been here for five fucking years. Do you know how many people have my phone number? One. The day that hero showed up, I never would have come back, except –”

His hand comes up, scratching his neck with gloved fingers. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t like you. Why do you think it took me so long?”

It? What is he talking about? “I do like you,” you say. “I really like you. I just didn’t think anything would happen. Or happen that fast.”

“Hooking up like that was your idea,” Tenko says. You don’t want to own up to that, but it’s true – he was the one who kissed you, but you were the one who suggested heading back to your room. “Do you wish we hadn’t?”

“I wish I’d been better prepared,” you admit. Tenko blinks. “If I had condoms things wouldn’t have been as messy.”

“I like it messy.” Tenko states it so plainly that you feel your face heat up. “We’ll get condoms. You can stop freaking out whenever you want.”

“I’m not freaking out,” you say. “I just –”

The scream comes out of nowhere, cutting off a thought you didn’t have a prayer of articulating properly. “Help!”

It’s a kid’s voice, high-pitched and splitting with fear. You can’t identify where it’s coming from, and there’s not even a question of what you’ll do. You and Tenko trade a glance, then rocket to your feet. Tenko takes off down the beach. You head back the way you came. “Keep yelling!” you shout to the kid. “Let us know where you are!”

The kid keeps yelling, getting steadily less coherent. They must be closer to you than to Tenko, because their voice is getting louder. You veer closer to the water’s edge, your heart in your throat. The water’s already rushing up around the logs the storm left behind, up to your ankles and getting higher. The kid’s scream takes on a new urgency. “Hurry! The waves –”

You skitter around a log, giving it a wide berth to avoid the deeper pool of water beneath it, and find the kid, halfway trapped under another log and struggling to keep his head above water. He spots you, opens his mouth to scream again, and catches a mouthful of seawater from the wave that’s just rolled in.

You duck down beside him, hoisting his head and shoulders up, buying time. You suck down a breath and let loose a shout of your own. “Tenko! Over here!”

It seems like an eternity before he appears around the side of the log. He looks at the kid, then at you. “What the hell happened?”

The kid is crying too hard to answer, but it’s not hard to guess. “He must have been climbing on the log, and it rolled over on him.”

“What were you doing out here alone?” Tenko demands of the kid. The kid doesn’t answer, and Tenko’s red eyes flash with rage. “Who was supposed to take care of you? Why aren’t they here?”

“Hey,” you snap. This isn’t helping. “I need you to call emergency services. Tell them we’re at Fourth Beach and there’s a kid in trouble.”

Tenko pulls out his phone and dials, while you try to strategize. The tide is coming in faster now. Even if emergency services gets here at their top speed, there’s a good chance the water will have already covered the kid’s head. Based on the way he’s panicking, you don’t think he has a quirk that lets him breathe underwater, and you have a fleeting thought about heroes before remembering that you’re in a rural town. There are no heroes here. You and Tenko are going to have to get him out yourselves.

Your quirk is worse than useless for this. You don’t know what Tenko’s quirk is, or if he even has one. Tenko shoves his phone in his pocket and hurries back to your side. “They said they’re coming.”

“How long?”

“Ten minutes.”

The kid doesn’t have ten minutes, and all three of you know it. “Here’s what I’m thinking,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm. “When the next wave comes in, we can use its momentum to roll the log forward and pull him out from underneath it.”

“It’s huge,” Tenko says. “That won’t work.”

“It rolled from him stepping on it,” you say. “We can do this.”

Tenko doesn’t argue with you. He turns to watch the waves, looking for a likely one, while you explain the situation to the boy. He’s going to have to hold his breath while you and Tenko push the log, and then one of you – probably you – will pull him out. He starts to protest, but then Tenko calls out that a wave’s coming up, and the boy switches to sucking down air instead. Good. You hold him up until the last possible moment, then get to your feet. You take up a position at Tenko’s side, set your feet as firmly as you’re able to in the shifting sand, and shove hard at the log as the wave washes up around it.

You think you feel it move, a little bit. But then the water recedes, and you scramble back to the kid, and as soon as his head breaks the surface, he howls in pain. “My leg!”

You must have rolled the log back on it – or forward, or something. “We need a bigger wave.”

Tenko shakes his head. He looks like he’s going to be sick. You can hear sirens in the distance, but they’re too far away. The kid is screaming, clawing at your shirt, and you struggle to comfort him, promising that help is coming, promising it’ll be okay. It doesn’t work, or else what happened to his leg in your failed attempt to move the log is worse than you thought, because his eyes roll up in his head and he goes boneless in your grip. You shake him, terrified, desperate to keep his head above water as another wave crashes against your back. He’s going to die. A kid is going to die while you’re holding him, and there’s nothing you can do.

You can’t look at his pale, slackened face a second longer. You look up instead, and that’s when you see the solitary crack running across the log’s surface.

It wasn’t there before, and now it’s not alone. One crack turns into a dozen, and dozens more, spreading and colliding with each other until the log simply crumbles away, leaving nothing in its place. Nothing except Tenko on the other side, both hands outstretched – and ungloved.

Something twists in the back of your mind, but the kid is free now, and the tide is still coming in. You start dragging him up the beach, trying to get clear of the high-tide line. A quick glance at his leg shows you that it’s broken, badly, but you can’t worry about it now, or get lost in the fact that it’s your fault. The two of you make it onto dry sand just in time for a trio of paramedics to race down the beach, carrying a stretcher and pursued by five or six terrified people. “What happened?”

“He got – stuck,” you manage. Your teeth are chattering. You aren’t even that cold. “Is he going to be okay?”

The paramedics have questions for you, even as they shoo you out of the way. Did he swallow water? Yes. Did he breathe water in? You don’t know. How long has he been unconscious? A minute, maybe less. Time feels uneven, unreal. You don’t have a clue what’s going on, and you stand blankly off to one side, unsure whether you’re supposed to stay or go. Maybe you can go. Everybody knows where to find you if they have questions, and you’ll calm down faster if you and Tenko can –

Tenko’s not standing next to you. You look up and down the beach, but you can’t see him anywhere.

Maybe emergency services scared him off. He booked it pretty fast at the sight of Present Mic. You pull your phone out of your pocket to text him, but your phone’s dripping wet and unresponsive. Now you really need to get home, and maybe Tenko’s there already. He saved someone’s life. If he’s freaked out even slightly as much as you are, you want to be with him.

But something is nagging at you as you speed-walk back through town, something about Tenko’s quirk. You never asked what it was, but the gloves were enough for you to infer that it had something to do with his hands. And maybe he doesn’t feel all that comfortable with it. You wouldn’t either, if you had a quirk like that. The way it looked, how fast it moved – it was almost like –

You stop dead in your tracks on the side of the road. Tenko’s gloves. His red eyes. His dyed hair and scarred face and mangled hands, and a quirk that lets him destroy things he touches. Even their initials are the same. Shimura Tenko, and. And. Your mind won’t let you finish the thought. You won’t let yourself jump to conclusions like that. You need to be sure. You force yourself into motion, back to a speed-walk. Then into a run.

Back at home, you drop your phone in a bowl of rice and sit down at the kitchen table with your laptop without bothering to change out of your wet clothes. You haven’t been a criminal in half a decade, but you still know how to search the internet like one. This isn’t dark-web level, and it’s not illegal, but you could raise red flags, and if you’re right – you connect to a VPN, open a web browser you’ve never used before, set your cache to empty every five minutes, and type in your first query.

‘shigaraki tomura quirk’ gets you a long list. You have to scroll all the way to the bottom of the first page you click on to find the quirk you’re thinking of, and when you read the description, your heart sinks. You navigate away from the webpage and type in a new prompt. ‘shigaraki tomura decay’ gets you more pages analyzing the quirk itself, all of which feel unnecessary and unhelpful. You know what Decay is. You need to know what it looked like. You modify the search. ‘shigaraki tomura decay video’.

YouTube has nothing, courtesy of aggressive content moderation. You dig a little deeper, finding lesser-known, sketchier hosting sites, and the first video that pops up is of the destruction of Jaku City, at the very beginning of the war. It happens so quickly – too quickly to see anything except the way the buildings implode into nothing. You need an up-close view, so you modify your search, scrolling past video after blurry video until you find one tagged as part of the Deika City massacre.

The quality looks okay. You click on it and find yourself watching a group of people thundering up a street, headed for something just out of frame. A moment later, whatever it is ducks through the corner of the frame. A pale hand rises up, making contact with the face of one of the people in the group. And then you see it. Cracks spreading across their face, just a few at first, and then they spread so rapidly that the person simply falls apart where they stand.

You just watched a snuff film, but that’s not what makes you recoil. What Shigaraki Tomura did to the person in that video is the same thing Tenko did to the log on the beach. It’s the same quirk. They’re the same man.

Tenko’s hair is dyed, and it’s not dyed well. You never asked what his natural color is, but you’re betting it’s white, which is why there’s no way he can get someone else to color it for him. If he walked into a salon with white hair, red eyes, no eyebrows, and a scar over his right eye, there’s not a person in Japan who wouldn’t recognize him instantly.

You type in another query: ‘shigaraki tomura face’. It turns up a lot of photos of him with the signature hand over his face, but you get at least one without it, and the reason why he wears a mask all the time becomes clear in an instant. No eyebrows – happens. Plenty of people have red eyes. But add in the scar over the left side of Tenko’s lips, a scar you ran your thumb over last night, and the birthmark Shigaraki has just below the right corner of his mouth, and he’d be unmistakable. No matter how many bad dye jobs he did on his hair.

You shut the lid of your laptop with shaking hands and sit back in your chair. Shimura Tenko, your regular customer, who slept over last night, who you like and who likes you, is the same person as Shigaraki Tomura, an unrepentant supervillain who’s been dead for five years. It doesn’t make any sense. If Shigaraki had survived the war, he’d be in maximum-security prison for the rest of his life, not beta-testing video games and hanging out in your coffee shop. Shigaraki Tomura is dead. You met the hero who killed him.

Or did he? You remember thinking how odd it was that Deku kept referring to Shigaraki watching what he was doing, wishing he could talk to him. You remember what he said when Spinner asked about Shigaraki’s ashes: There was nothing left of Shigaraki Tomura. But somebody else walked away from that fight, and he’s got Shigaraki’s quirk – and the only time you’ve seen him use it, it was to save someone’s life. You can’t say for sure, but the circumstantial evidence is compelling as hell. You know who Shimura Tenko is. And you’re halfway convinced he used to be Shigaraki Tomura.

You fish your phone out of the bowl of rice to check if it’s working yet. It isn’t. You’re going to have to wait a little longer to reach out to Tenko. His backpack and laptop are still here. He’ll be back for them, probably tonight – and if not, you’ll see him at the café tomorrow, and you can give it to him then. And when you see him again, you can sort this out. There’s nothing else you can do right now.

You tell yourself that, make yourself believe it, and spend the rest of your one day off every week getting your chores done. And even though it’s been an exhausting twenty-four hours, even though there’s nothing you can do, you still toss and turn through the night, thinking about Tenko. Worrying about him. Wondering who he was before this, and wondering at how little it matters to you.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #x reader #reader insert #coffee shop rehab fic #man door hand hook car door #a bisquared production

77 notes · View notes

octuscle · 11 months

Note

Support dude, it’s me again, Mike. I hit you up so much I feel like I should pay you. And hey if you need that, I’ve got you just tell me. I owe you a shit ton, dude. Since you last helped me, Jack and I tied the fucking knot (and had a hell of a honeymoon haha hadn’t gotten so many noise complaints since high school) and I even moved into his place. Real big and nice like, would make a suburban man cream his pants and even a socialite would do a double take. For as filthy as he can be with me, big boss knows how to fucking live.

But I wouldn’t be hitting you up if everything was all sunshine and rainbows, eh? (Though one of these days I might convince Boss to let you in on our thing for a night or two, just to say thank you if that’s a thing you wanted wink) One of the neighbors apparently doesn’t like it so much when I invite some of the guys at work over for our, let’s call em team bonding events. He bitches and moans about how loud and rowdy we get and how it’s ruining the value of the neighborhood. I almost kicked his ass the first time he came by all bossy and shit, but Boss told me he was President of their HOA or whatever the fuck and that I couldn’t. So I’ve been trying to ignore the prude but if he comes over and ruins another good night I might lose my cool and I don’t wanna let down Boss like that.

Any way you can make the neighborhood meet our lifestyle choices better, dude? I don’t wanna give up this lavish living so soon, it’s nice as hell. But I don’t want it to change me. I wanna change it! Ain’t no reason we can’t live it up without being able to get down if you catch my drift. Can you help me?

I have not invested so much time in my favorite customers, so that you now become adapted suburban bourgeois. So it's time for me to take care of your neighbor. He may be the president of the HOA, after all. But that doesn't give him the right to regulate your private lives. But I could add a little spice to his.

Actually, the boring buffer is not a visitor to the gym. Thank God. So at least you have peace from him there. But today he feels like working out his muscles. And of course, when he enters the locker room, you run right into his arms. And the slimy ass-kisser can do nothing but shake your hand in a friendly way, as if you were best friends. Oops, sorry that your towel slips down.

Normally you are hard as granite when you come back from training. At the sight of your neighbor, the 8 inches dangle limply between your legs. He still seems impressed. To warn your man, you send him a quick message about what to expect during his workout. And write him that you are already preparing everything for dinner at home. "Everything is fine, stallion! daddy wont b disturbed during his workout. Ill b home in 2 hrs"

Your neighbor is blocking the very stations where Jack wants to work out. He has memorized the gym rules and points out every pissy infraction to your husband. In the beginning. But the more Jack sweats, the more musk he exudes, the hornier your neighbor gets. And slowly he starts to change. Actually, sleeveless tops are not allowed in the gym. You both don't care. And your neighbor now too. With the white wifebeater he looks almost like Jack's gym buddy. And he's starting to smell like one, too. It's hard to believe that just a few minutes ago he was the overgroomed suit guy. His armpit hair is sprouting. He obviously hasn't been to the barbershop in a few months either. He stops regimenting your husband. The two of them start working out together as if they've been doing it forever. Steve (your neighbor) can't get enough of having Jack's sweaty workout shorts hanging in front of his face during the bench press. His bulge gets bigger and bigger. And the damp spots in his shorts aren't just from sweat. Jack asks if it's not time to go to the locker room. Steve replies that he was already afraid that Jack wouldn't even ask.

"is it k if i bring a pal 2 dinner" texts Jack. "he 1't want much mor then ur cum and mine." "then he shud bring big appetite" you reply. Shit, this time when Steve shakes your hand, nothing is limp between your legs. Enjoy the evening with the president of the HOA to the fullest!

Pics all found @thelockerroomblog

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #male transformation #muscle transformation #inked man #wife beater #revange tf

188 notes · View notes

bless-my-demons · 1 year

Text

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Two

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: cuss words and recreational cliff diving

Notes: The moment you’ve been waiting for! Just don’t kill me pls🫣 sorry this one is short, but the next chapter is twice as long so buckle up lol

Word Count: 1290

Series Masterlist

Reader

Quil has been… tricky since I found out about the wolves. Now I know why his best friends have ditched him and I can’t even tell him.

How would I even phrase it?

Hey man, so you know how your best buds kinda cut all their hair off, got insanely ripped, tattooed these tribal pieces on their arms, and seclude themselves? Well, they’re actually these supernatural protectors of the reservation and turn into huge fucking wolves.

Yeah that’d go over real well. Not to mention said wolves would rip me a fucking new one. I mean, they protect humans, but is the line drawn at exposure? Would they even vote or would Sam just slam his own gavel? Make a spectacle in front of the tribe? What would they even tell my mom?

I can’t help the direction of my thoughts, desperation for my friend - to cure the source of his pain, gnaws at me from the inside.

So I unintentionally start hanging out with him less. Not completely - no, my heart would never allow it, but less. Less means I can stop pretending so much - I lie to my mom and I live with her. I lie to Bella because two friends falling apart in the same way helps no one. I lie to Quil so the wolves can continue to exist without a spotlight. I lie to Embry and say I’m fine so he can have someone to not be fine with. More often than not it feels like the smile on my face and the words in my mouth are just lies, lies, lies.

So I have to do less. Because less is how I stay afloat.

Less is what I wish I’d feel.

•March 16th, 2006 • Quileute Indian Reservation•

Reader

“Are you sure about this?” The roaring of the water below almost drowns me out, but Bella’s shoulder is brushing mine and I can tell she heard my question in the way her own shoulders sink as we stare down at the turning water.

“Look, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to-”

“Oh I’m going to, just thought I’d offer an out.” I’m not even looking at her and I can feel the tension leak away from her.

“You’ve always been down for some crazy stuff.” She tells me, stepping away to shed her backpack, bracelets, shoes and anything else she doesn’t want to get wet.

“Believe me, I fucking know.” I whisper to myself.

Are we really about to jump from a cliff just to feel something?

I’ll do anything to feel something besides this gaping hole in my chest and apparently that starts with cliff jumping.

I turn to check on her and catch her mumbling something under her breath before she steps off and disappears from view.

I copy her actions and shed myself of my extra clothing items until I’m in just my jeans and t-shirt. A thundering rumble from deep in the trees pulls my attention for half a second from the dark water below as I wait for Bella’s head to surface. A storm, maybe? Has to be-but the snapping of twigs, that’s something inside the forest.

The wolves? We picked a day they were occupied, they’ve been chasing Victoria ever since Laraunt showed up and Bella explained to Jacob what they were after - us. And Charlie, along with some trigger-happy townspeople, have been hunting the wolves.

Which leaves us free to do things like this, stupid shit without the overbearing men in our lives watching our every move.

I take a step forward into nothing before whatever that is makes an appearance and stops us.

Time might as well be standing still.

I mean, I feel the rumple of my shirt across my stomach as I fall, but the way my heart is in my throat and my lungs squeeze-

Ice. The water is pure ice.

I’m stunned at the brutality of the water, not only in temperature, but also in the way it ebbs and rolls. I’m not entirely sure which way is up, but I catch a glimpse of a jean-clad leg drifting away into the darkness - Bella! I’m too slow, the water is zapping my warmth and my strength with it.

Lungs screaming at me to give up, a tan blur of muscles dives right past me at an incredible pace. A few seconds later, another tan and muscled arm wraps around my torso and our rapid ascent to the surface begins.

My last thought - the last image in my brain before darkness drowns me out is Bella, dragged completely limp by Jacob.

• March 16th, 2005 • Ithaca, New York •

Jasper

A choking gasp so loud it startles everyone lounging in the house-horror, disbelief, terror courses through my sister in the fraction of a second.

The next fraction I’m at her side.

“Alice-Alice!” I grip the tops of her arms as I stare into her eyes, begging her to answer me immediately, “What is it?”

Her eyes are flicking around, far away from here and searching-panic begins overtaking her and I can do nothing to stop its rampant escalation. My power retaliates, I try to grasp her slippery hysteria but it’s like smoke - filling the room rapidly, choking me, but I’m unable to grasp it-to tame it. There’s only three people not in this room that would elicit such reaction and one is immortal-

“Bella and-” but she cuts herself off before she could finish as she meets my eyes.

“Bella. And. What. Alice?” My tone is deadly and the words are clipped - I already know the answer, but it can’t be.

Instead of answering me, she spins from my grip.

“Carlisle! I need keys!” I follow her as she grabs everything she needs for a day trip, apparently.

“Alice answer me, what’s going on?” I’m desperate at this point for any information.

“I’m driving to Forks.” Her words are stern, mind set. “I have to check on them, I can’t see-”

“You can’t see them?”

“They jumped off a fucking cliff and I can’t see them!” Her breath is tearing in and out as she spins to look at me, panic and inadequacy pinging off of her.

They… jumped off a cliff?

For the first time in a very long time, I can’t breathe.

“My-my girl j-jumped?” The small voice passing through my lips doesn’t sound like me.

“I need to check on them-”

“I’m coming.” The heart in my chest has long since ceased to work, but now it feels as though it’s turning rotten and black.

“If you can’t handle it-” She starts, but I stop her again.

“If she’s gone, nothing matters anymore.”

• March 16th, 2006 • Home •

Reader

I rinsed off in the shower after Embry dropped me off, not much energy left to fully shower. Thank whatever other-worldly force looking out for me that he didn’t take me to the hospital so my mom could get involved. The woman would hover no doubt non-stop and then proceed to give me the lecture of the century, something I don’t have the capacity for at the moment.

Plopping down onto the sofa, I settle back into the soft cushions, my body absolutely tired.

Hurried knocking on the front door not-so-softly wakes me up, I must’ve drifted off after laying down.

“Embry, I’m fine - you didn’t need to check on me-”

But as the door swings open it isn’t Embry.

Panting like he had just run a marathon, hair slightly wet and eyes wide with panic, stood someone I thought I’d never see again.

Someone I thought had to be a figment of my imagination.

Jasper?

Teaser

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

#redamancy series #bless-my-demons #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper hale x female!reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #jasper hale #twilight #female reader insert

329 notes · View notes

souglias · 6 months

Text

Remember To Throw Your Expired Milk [GINTOKI]

Just because an era has passed, doesn't mean everything from then is lost.

c/w: self-indulgent, may have some timeline inaccuracies, mentions of the Joui War, mentions of injuries and scars

Gintoki x gn!reader (reader is implied to be smaller than him for a small part)

word count: 4.7k words (I'm sorry guys)

note: This fic serves an outlet for me, so when I mean self-indulgent, I really mean it!! Please let me know if you think I missed any content warnings. Border is a cropped frame from the Gintama The Final movie :)

cross-posted on AO3 (accessible from my profile)!

All likes and reblogs are appreciated!

The morning before you leave for the Joui war is a chilly autumn, with the last leaves barely hanging onto their branches. The four of you were to leave together: You, Gintoki, Takasugi and Katsura.

This particular morning, it is just you and Gintoki in the abandoned house that Takasugi and Katsura also lived in. Both of them have gone out for a bit. You didn’t know for what, but the house feels a little empty without the two.

Gintoki is keenly aware of you standing behind him, your eyes burning holes into his hands that are tightening his headband. He is about to attach his sword but decides to drop his hands to his sides instead, shaking them.

With his back still facing you, he spits, "Go back to Edo tonight. You have no use on the battlefield."

The monotonous banter, usually akin to a relentless fly, stings this time. It takes only a moment for him to realise the possible weight of his words. Tentatively, he looks over his shoulder at you.

Gintoki doesn't know if he is more than a friend to you, but he would carry all your burdens and sorrow if it meant you wouldn’t enter the battlefield with them. If he has to choose his life or yours, he will choose yours. He would do anything if it meant that you would tease him about his natural perm or jab him playfully at his sides again.

So, when he meets your unwavering yet melancholic gaze, he breaks the eye contact that barely lasts. His feet become a little heavier each time he sees you with that face. The more he trudges forward, the more he has to lose.

"I'm not useless. You know I can fight. Didn’t know you had such a shit impression of me."

You can, and you fight well.

“But you don’t need to fight. You should protect your ass when you can and live. You’ve always been a scared kid anyway. Oh, who was the one who used to be intimidated by me?”

You retort back, but there’s no bite in it. “Shut your ass trap. I’m not chickening out now. You sound like the one who’s scared now.”

Gintoki’s heart is trembling. He sees the grim reaper preparing for its shift to make rounds and he does not want to see you among a pile of corpses.

He flicks your forehead, takes your headband anyway and wraps it around your head. You too, carry the same pent-up fury from the Kansei Purge as everyone else. You have your grievances to air in your way too. Hell, if you asked him not to fight, he would have called you an idiot and ignored you.

His arms hover around your head as he ties a knot securely at the back of your head. Your head is almost on his chest, and his mind wanders to how close you are to him.

“It hurts.”

“Ah, sorry.”

His hands move to loosen your headband, but you rest one hand on his forearm to stop him. You stare straight into his chest and your free hand fidgets with the side of your pant leg. Gintoki realises that you are thinking about so much more than the headband.

If he could even be audacious, he thinks he knows what you are thinking of.

He tries to think of something to say. For a split moment, he even considers a hug. Even though it’s not something he has ever been good with. But before he gets to do anything at all, Takasugi creeps up from behind him.

“I can’t believe you guys. Getting all touchy-feely before the fight?”

Gintoki immediately steps back, creating some distance between the two of you. He hurls some insults at Takasugi and the two of them bicker. When Katsura returns, instead of breaking up the fight, he joins in their nonsensical argument that is not even about the two of you anymore.

You take in this scene and etch it in your mind. This is the perfect time to have time halt if it is ever possible.

The four of you set out when it was time. As you attach your sword to your side, Gintoki comes up to you with his faux nonchalance. His eyes wander everywhere for a bit, one of his hands rubs the back of his head and the other seems to be lost on what to do. "You already know this, but do me a favour and buy me some strawberry milk on your next trip to the convenience store again. Keep them in the fridge.”

He pauses as he watches your face shift from confusion to understanding.

“It has to be the Azuri brand one! Don't you dare drink it."

Your hand resting on the handle of your sheathed sword tightens.

“Okay, you better fucking come for it.”

Gintoki catches you with that melancholic smile again. He bumps your arm gently with his fist. Noticing you walk with less of a drag in your feet, he assumes it is good enough.

(You are always so difficult for him.)

Sometime towards the end of the Joui war, when the bodies all start to pile up and the soldiers are all weary, he loses sight of you. His eyes can no longer find the silhouette he has become so familiar with and his ears cannot find the rhythm of your steps that he has memorised by heart. You do not return to base when night falls.

The voices all say you’re dead and gone, but Gintoki tries to protect the flickering flame of hope in his heart as he continues to fight. You promised him a carton- no, cartons of strawberry milk. You are far from stupid to take a promise to the afterlife with you.

But when the Joui war ends, he disappears, just like everyone else. Along with the dying fire in his heart that he wilfully thought he could protect. Hope is a heavy thing to carry after all that has happened.

The Amanto, who had kept you in a dark room for what felt like weeks, releases you into a world you are no longer familiar with. You find out that it’s only been days and that you were originally to be executed the next day.

The sky is cluttered with more spaceships and the sun feels a little more cruel than you knew it to be. You walk with no aim, looking back now and then, thinking that you hear familiar voices. It goes on till the sight of the convenience store you frequented with your friends slowly pulls you back to reality. The weight of your emotions kicks in when you hear the welcome chime of the store. Your wounds start to weep and your muscles burn as you limp towards the refrigerator of cooled drinks.

With a throat full of screams you bite back, you place a few cartons of strawberry milk from the barren refrigerator of the convenience store into your arms. Large ones to keep in the fridge, small ones in the event he wants to bring it out. The counter staff asks you if you are okay while he packs your purchases, but you simply brush him off.

As you drag your unwilling feet into the town that spells a lonely journey into the future, the carton of strawberry milk treads too to its expiration date.

(How naive of you, to think Edo would be the town you could call home with everyone you cared about and the one man you loved.)

You wander within the city after you receive treatment, searching for a sign of anyone you know. Eventually, you traverse out of Edo.

Whenever someone mentions the Four Heavenly Kings, you find your spirit to be lifted, only to be let down without fail. It is a name that strangers use so freely and carelessly. The four you know are now only legends, reduced to mere tales. They are unreachable, even as someone who has grown with them. You start to think maybe they are dead. Maybe you have just been searching for a time that has ceased to exist.

(Besides, you may have escaped death when you were released, but you think a part of you died that day too.)

It’s a long time before you force yourself to get your shit together. When you return to Edo, you see wanted posters of Katsura everywhere, the corners already peeling. One, hangs on by a small strip of tape, at a lamp post outside a humble ramen shop on the outskirts. You get a job at this ramen shop, and you stare at Katsura’s mugshot as you work until the poster gets blown away one day. With your pay, you get by and live in a simple rented apartment nearby.

When you finally bump into Katsura himself, you think you’re seeing the distant light at the end of the winding tunnel. He manages to fill you in on a bit, but takes off soon due to his predicament. The bare, discreet conversation you have with him ends up doing the opposite of what you hoped, whiffing out the little hope you carried instead. Sakamoto is assumed to be in space, which makes you a little relieved knowing he’s living his dream. But, the fact that the whereabouts of Gintoki and Takasugi are still uncertain makes you feel you’re still at square one.

Despite the time that has passed, you still see Gintoki in many things. The Shounen Jump on the shelves. Anyone with their permed hair, even if it’s clearly artificial. And especially those fucking cartons of strawberry milk you keep. They are an anchor to your past and their tarnished, rusted edges dig into your skin. You want to throw them out so bad, but you can never bring yourself to. You stay at square one with these rotting cartons for the passing seasons.

On a chilly winter afternoon with snow that’s taking its time to fall, you find Gintoki when you pass through Kabukicho. Walking past Snack Otose, you catch a glimpse of a head of silver in your peripheral vision.

You don’t recall when this… Yorozuya Gin-Chan came to be above Snack Otose. But you always pass Kabukicho in a hurry. Maybe it has always been there.

An old lady talks to him at his door, blocking him from your view on the ground floor. But you wouldn’t mistake that natural wavy perm of silver, even though all you see are strands peeking out from the sides of the old lady.

When she walks off with a face of frustration, you withdraw into a nearby alley in a flurry. You take in the scene of Gintoki with his exasperated look. He scratches his head a little and sighs, before he goes back inside. You take it as your sign to leave.

(Gintoki sees you. And he isn’t ready to talk to you either. Not with the way your fists clench. He immediately guesses what you’re feeling, if you have not changed immensely into someone different. He shakes away the urge to approach you and convinces himself again that just knowing that you are alive and warm is enough. He is content.)

The snow does not stop even when night falls. When Gintoki returns home, he turns the television on and stretches out with his feet propped up on his work desk. The doorbell rings and he sits up. His heart throbs, in anticipation for a certain someone. He tames it. Expectation is a potential recipe for disappointment.

When he opens the door, he finds you carrying two plastic bags. Your hands are very tightly wrapped around the handles. You refuse to look up at him.

“What? Asshole crawled back up from their grave? Not happy with what you got?”

You enter the house wordlessly and he shuffles out of your path. You drop the bags on the coffee table, causing a loud thud to resound in the room.

“Hey hey, the landlady downstairs is going to complain. She already came up bitching about the rent earlier this afternoon-”

“I owe you something. Did you forget?”

You pull a small carton of strawberry milk out of the bag and set it on the table. It is worn from weather and time. You rip open the top of the carton and the straw gets yanked out of the plastic, soon finding itself in the opening.

Shoving the carton into his chest, you gather the courage to look him in the eye. The carton starts to wrinkle even more from your tightening grip. You hold it tighter, as if it would stop your tears from welling.

He notices the expiry date printed on the carton, which was more than one and a half years ago. His hand wraps around yours and he doesn’t let you slip them out.

“I don’t forget what people owe me that easily. Even if I died, I would demand for the guardians of hell to arrange a delivery to get them from you.”

Your grip loosens a little when you notice the soft, subtle smile on his face. There’s a lump in your throat again and you take a few deep breaths to stop it. The sound of the television fills the silence between the two of you for a bit.

“A little less than a year ago, I crossed paths with Zura. He told me both of you disappeared and didn’t know where you were.”

The next few words almost escape him. It makes you feel small and helpless to say it, even though he was right in front of you. “I thought maybe you died.”

A stray tear streaks down your cheek. He gently pries the milk from your hands and sets it down on the table.

(He thought you died too. Sure, without realising it, he started to carry hope in his heart again. But it felt like the weight of the world sometimes, and he had to carry it by dragging it across the ground. The possibility of you being six feet under rang so loud in his mind.

It only became lighter when he bumped into Katsura for the first time a few days ago. It was when he heard about you from Katsura. Gintoki headed down and watched you work in the ramen shop from the other side of the road. He left without approaching you. He didn’t know what he was going to say to you. Besides, seeing him could reopen old wounds and he didn’t want to do that to you. And just maybe, he was a little bit of a coward when it comes to you.

But he guesses it is all futile. You found him after all.)

With his thumb, he brushes your cheek. You notice scars on his arm that you don’t ever recall him having.

“You worry too much. It takes a lot to kill me.”

“But it hurt, didn’t it?”

It did. Even now, the wounds on his soul throb a little. He thinks he’s underestimated how much he missed you. “They’re just scratches.”

You inch towards him and put your arms around him for a hug. He tenses up at your touch, but he manages to loosen up and pats your back gently until you stop crying.

“Did you cry like that when you found Zura?”

“No.”

A stray smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t waste your tears on Zura.”

“So you’re saying it’s worth it to cry for you?”

Gintoki’s eyes dart off in another direction. “No. Don't cry for me again.”

The way his sentence seemingly hangs thickens the air between the two of you. He scoffs and sits down on the sofa. Refusing to make eye contact with you, he rubs the back of his head and frowns.

He is still the Gintoki you committed to your memory and love. Even as time passes, he still has the same habits. Even though his fashion sense has changed, you still see him adorn the same shades. You can still see the pureness of his soul even with the haze of time. Despite the tears, you find a hearty laugh rising up your throat. So you let it out.

He freezes upon hearing your laugh and realises that he has not heard something so genuine from you for so long, even from before the two of you parted.

As he runs his fingers through his natural perm for the last time and stands up, he suggests, “Let’s go to the supermarket. We should get new cartons.”

You glance at the clock. “Sorry, maybe not today. It takes a while to get to the supermarket and I need to get back to my apartment too. I live on the outskirts.”

“I’ll send you back. I have a scooter now.”

“Wow, I assumed you couldn’t pay rent. Where did you get the money for that? Did you rob a bank? It’s well within the capabilities of the White Yaksha.”

His eyebrow twitches. “Quit yapping and move along. I bargained hard and relentlessly for a lower price.”

As both of you make your way to the scooter, you continue to make more snarky comments about how he got the scooter. When you see the scooter, you decide to make some more comments about the scooter, though you actually think it is a fine thing. He smacks you on the head, eliciting a giggle from you instead of what he thought would be a retort.

“Your home is so damned far away, you know,” Gintoki complains as he turns on the engine.

“You were the one who offered.”

Without much thought, you tease him as you sit behind him, “Then, where should I stay? With you?”

You realise what you’ve asked and you’re about to make a comment to brush it off. But Gintoki plops a helmet on your head before you can do so, and starts the scooter. As he begins to drive off, you place your hands tentatively on his waist. He throws a glance over his shoulder at you. “Hold on tight and don’t let go.”

It doesn’t take long for you to get used to your hand on him and he can feel your tense hands slowly relax. With his eyes on the road in front of him, he’s not 100% sure, but he thinks you’re leaning in a little.

(The scooter doesn’t go as fast as those flashy sports cars the rich use to zoom around town. But you still get to the convenience store a lot quicker than you expected. It’s too fast, you feel like you will never have enough time with him.

Even though he is right in front of you, the lost time makes the vast distance between the two of you so clear. It is one that you cannot cross now with your arms, even if you gathered the courage to wrap them wholly and tightly around him. The thought that he might disappear again will gnaw at you for a while.

That night, he pays for the strawberry milk. The two of you take the last two cartons of the Azuri brand he very much prefers. You take your time to sip on it during the ride, watching his wavy hair let loose in the wind and catch the lights of the slowly dwindling traffic around you.)

Gintoki gives you a face when he looks up from the grocery bag on the coffee table. His eyes fill with incredulity and his lips downturn dramatically. "What is this?"

You put up an air of innocence, teasing in a sing-song voice, "What's what?"

"THIS!"

He pulls out a carton of milk from the grocery bag with two fingers gripping it and waves it around hysterically.

"This is plain milk!"

"You're stating the obvious."

He drops the carton back into the grocery bag and yells out in exasperation, hands grasping at nothing in the air. You stifle a laugh.

"Still gives you the protein that you so absolutely love in your strawberry milk, doesn't it?"

He plops down on the sofa and crosses his arms. Eyebrow twitching, he begins a lecture.

"Listen [name]. Plain milk is not the same as strawberry milk. Strawberry milk is NOT just syrup or sugar getting added into milk."

You nod, pursing your lips so as not to let out a laugh at the bewildering he says and the ones he might say.

His doctor highly recommended that he cut down on sugar. Based on your internet searches, strawberry-flavoured milk has more sugar than plain ones. And because you love your boyfriend so much, you decide to take it into your own hands to buy plain milk which would be much better for his health. Watching him become exasperated over it is just a huge cherry on top.

Sensing that you found his reasoning ridiculous, he whines and throws himself face down onto his sofa. You don’t bother to suppress your laughter when he starts kicking his feet.

Out of nowhere, he jumps off the sofa and slides his wooden sword into his belt. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You offered to buy it because you planned this, right? Because the doctor said I had to reduce my sugar intake.”

How dare you, his beloved, commit such an act of betrayal to him! He adds a little shout in between his rambling. Then, adds, “Sugar is life, [name]! We have to go buy them now!”

He tugs at your arm and you refuse to budge. Initially, you reason that he can’t leave the house because Yorozuya’s opening hours aren’t over yet. As he tugs harder, you start to mock him for having such a sweet tooth, how he’s weak for being unable to go by without strawberry milk and how ungrateful he is for you. He retorts back saying you shouldn’t have backstabbed your boyfriend like that, and there’s nothing sinful with having a sweet tooth. In the end, he lifts you by your waist with his arm and out of the house into the spring evening. Conscious of the looks of onlookers, you smack him on his back harder and harder till he complains about how it hurts and puts you down.

Gintoki continues to lecture you about the strawberry milk as the two of you walk to the convenience store that opened months ago. In the five-minute walk, you let him go on about the difference and hum now and then as an indication that you are listening. At the same time, you imagine the pink cherry blossom buds overhead. You imagine the falling sakura blooms around him. A mental image of the blossoms in his silver hair surfaces.

When he finishes his sentence, you comment, “I think you could be a strawberry parfait too.”

“Huh?”

It’s now your turn to talk in this walk and Gintoki sees the vision you’re having. He’s about to make a dirty joke, but you jab him at his side before he can say it.

When the two of you enter the store, he runs straight to the refrigerator. You trail behind him, already finding his arms full of large and small Maiji milk cartons although it has only been one minute.

It has become normal for Gintoki to take the Maiji brand carton without a second thought. You can no longer find the Azuri brand milk in Edo anymore, and possibly the whole of Japan. It took him a little getting used to and some whining to you, but he has come to enjoy it.

When you watch him try to arrange and squeeze everything into the basket, you think maybe your plan to help him cut down on sugar has backfired. Mans simply trying to stock up at this point. You end up having to do some convincing in that narrow aisle, with some other shoppers, for this manchild to put a few back.

From the refrigerator to the cashier and back to Yorozuya, Gintoki keeps pouting. You poke his cheek with his free hand, but all you get is a “hmph”. He’s not going to give in so easily! It takes so much more than paying for his sweets and saying he looks like a strawberry parfait!!

You think about offering to pay for his parfait, but you tell yourself not to give in to him. You want him to live a long life and die of old age, not go out way before his time in agony because of sugar.

Gintoki plops down at the corner of the sofa when the two of you return to Yorozuya. He starts reading the latest copy of Shounen Jump with one leg crossed on the sofa, sipping loudly on his milk in an attempt to irritate you. You sit on the other corner with your drink and magazine you bought yourself earlier, and you prop your feet on top of his lap. He smacks your feet once, but he lets you be as he always does. On other days, he enjoys doing it to you too.

Every now and then, you look up to see him engrossed in his manga. Sometimes when you blink, you still see images of the past versions of him with Katsura and Takasugi at his side.

You get up and give him a kiss on the cheek, before heading to the stairs outside. He’s a bit caught off guard, but you leave him to process it.

On the street downstairs, a few kids scramble around, presumably to head home. Your mind wanders to the three boys you grew up with. There are still days you think you wake from your nap in the classroom to the three boys duking it out in the dojo. But when your bleary vision in the morning clears and you notice that the ceiling above is different from the one at Shoka Sonjuku, reality settles. It’s just a ruckus made by some kids outside. You stare at the ceiling, remembering that Takasugi is at large with his new comrades. You remember that Zura now has his own faction, which both you and Gintoki reject his relentless invitations to. You remember that Shoyo-sensei is gone.

You hear the sliding door open behind you and Gintoki leans on the part of the ledge beside you.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

Gintoki notices you running your finger back and forth on the grooved surface of the ledge. He places a kiss on your temple. A little hesitant at first, but he goes for it. He then shifts behind you slightly, resting his hand on top of yours. With his steady frame behind you, you lean back a little on him.

(Gintoki wonders what Shoyo-sensei would think about the two of you. Hopefully, he approves, even though Shoyo had witnessed him disturbing you in class and outside of it. Hell, Shoyo even thought Gintoki was bullying you at one point and Gintoki had gone to lengths to prove otherwise. He would also argue that he was teasing you to get you to break out of your shell. Though in hindsight, maybe he had been a little mean about a few things.)

The wish to return to the bygone days still squeezes your heart with its agony. The days that Shoka Sonjuku was your home. Its invisible hands still try to grasp at the memories that are becoming ever-distant and drifting away in the stream of time. It is always the worst when you find resemblances that you find hard to ignore.

But everyone has found their place in this new era, including you. The night he dropped you off after reuniting, he asked you’ll come to Yorozuya again. You said you’d try, but no promises because it was far. Though, as you watched his receding figure ride back into the brightly lit town you once detested, you knew you would.

You're glad you did. After all, you found a place with Gintoki. A place, in this still unfamiliar city, that you can finally bring yourself to call home again.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading this self-indulgent, monster of a fic <3

#sakata gintoki x reader #gintoki x reader #sakata gintoki #gintoki imagines #gintama imagines #gintama x reader #gintama #souglia.s #my gintoki lovergirl era really hit this hard #this is my saddest era too esp bc of the songs I've been listening to while writing this #now I have other monsters to face aka my final assignments #still can't believe I spit out 4.7k worth of words for this man #I am very downbad for him #when I have the time watch me yap about the themes and shit and stuff I couldn't include

106 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

aita for not telling someone i know he’s being bullied?

⚠️ mentions of cancer + a suicide attempt

everyone mentioned here is in their 20s, with the youngest being 21 and the oldest being 28. none of the names used here are anyone’s actual names.

this is kind of a long story with a lot of moving parts and i can’t get into ALL of it so im trying to section JUST this off. basically i’ve had a group of friends for awhile. we met in a larger server and its a pretty big circle, so there is interpersonal drama aplenty. i stepped away from the bigger server and mainly maintained contact with 5-7 friends id made through a personal server and dm conversations.

one of the people in that server, erin (she/they) dm’d me to tell me they had to leave said personal server because they’d had a bit of an incident with 3 of the other members. they ended up telling me that they and the other 3 members had a group chat where they’d regularly talk shit about another person we know, bryce (he/him). apparently they all took something he said months ago WILDLY out of context to claim he’s a transmisogynist and therefore its fine that they bully him (this guy isn’t someone i’ve talked to very much since leaving but i do know him and we are on good terms. he can be a bit difficult to maintain conversations with but he very much is not a transmisogynist. also none of the people in this gc are transfem). like, they conspire in this group chat ways to make him feel bad. erin showed me some screenshots. its pretty textbook highschool mean girls behavior.

erin was also in this group chat and finally got fed up with them all and told them they need to stop trying to justify their actions. its pretty obvious bryce is not the bigot they’re saying he is and they’re just using that as an excuse to be cruel. the people in the group chat did not take that well so erin left and has also left any mutual servers they’re in with them.

she only told me all this because i offered to let her vent, but now im in kind of a rough spot morally. i think the correct thing to do here would be to let bryce know, but im being. kind of a coward about it.

this all may sound like im just throwing myself a pity party, but i am in a very, very bad spot right now. like i said, there was a ton of interpersonal drama in this group and i’ve been in the center of it before. it took a massive toll on me. so im not keen to get involved in drama in general, but also, mainly. i lost my best friend (minze, she/her) to cancer at the start of this year. i’ve known her since childhood and i’ve barely been able to function without her. we lived together. i still take care of her cat. we had the same birthday, and its coming up in a little over a week. i’ve been absolutely gutted knowing this is the first birthday ill spend without her in over a decade. i tried to kill myself a couple of weeks ago because i couldn’t bear the thought of it. i failed, obviously. and im fine at the moment but im definitely not perfectly well and im barely hanging on by a thread

i left the larger group because i couldn’t stand to be involved with everything going on. if i tell bryce about this group chat, i will be getting involved again. i dont think they know i know about it at this point but the only people who could tell him would be me and erin. even if i did it anonymously or asked him not to tell it would be incredibly easy to trace back to me. while im appalled to know my friends have been so viciously cruel to someone for no reason, since losing minze these people have been my only support network. they all knew minze, too. they’re some of the only people i can share memories of her with. i dont think i could process this grief alone

i know i need better friends but i don’t have them right now. i’ve sort of already got a strained relationship with some of them and i worry this could be the last straw and id just… lose them abruptly. and i know if that happened id put myself at risk again, because id be just as heavily suicidal but now with no one to confide in about it

bryce deserves to know. its the right thing to do, but it would cause me a dangerous amount of mental strain. but even though i say i don’t want to get involved i do feel, on some level, like i probably got involved the second i let erin even tell me about this. so i feel like im being a whiny dickhead and just making excuses but im just. im not willing to put myself through this again. not right now. aita?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

55 notes · View notes

karliahs · 4 months

Text

does anyone want 800 words of nearly contextless dialogue, that is just shinsou and midoriya being weird friends? just pure self-indulgence that would not leave my brain until i wrote it? you're welcome

“You’re doing it again.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Izuku says, still staring at their server.

“You’re about to go try to save someone you just met from their own personal problems. Again.”

“Don’t you think she seems sad?”

“She’s sad because you’re not eating your dinner.”

Izuku pointedly grabs another bite of food without looking at the bowl.

“Try focusing on yourself for once,” Hitoshi tries, because apparently he loves fighting losing battles.

“I’m focused.” Izuku goes to grab some more food only for his chopsticks to clank against the table. He turns his head at last and notices that Hitoshi has moved his bowl away without him noticing.

Izuku pulls the bowl back. “You should come with me to talk to her once we’re done eating.”

“Why?”

“You’re good at talking to people.”

Hitoshi gives him his best blank, intimidating stare. It isn’t nearly as effective as it used to be.

“You are! Your quirk requires you to be.”

“My quirk requires me to be good at antagonising people.”

“Which means you’re used to watching people, gauging their responses, figuring out what makes them tick,” Izuku lists, gesturing at Hitoshi with his chopsticks. “You can use that to help people just as easily as annoying them.”

“Why, when I’m so naturally talented at annoying people?”

“Because you’re a nice person who likes helping people.” Izuku gives him his sunshiniest smile, and Hitoshi swears he dials it up a few notches just to be annoying.

“Our friendship was a mistake.”

“Well, it’s too late for that now,” Izuku says, entirely unphased, looking back over at the server again. He’s become immune to Hitoshi’s grumbling way too fast.

And yeah, it really is too late for that, which is why Hitoshi lets himself get dragged into talking to the server about what’s bothering her, which ends up involving a recently retired underground hero and an illegal fighting ring, because of course it does. This is just what happens when you hang out with hero course kids. Never mind that Hitoshi is one too now.

“You two are in each other’s pockets lately,” Aizawa comments. “What happened to not wanting to make friends on the hero course?”

“Midoriya’s an unstoppable friendship machine,” Hitoshi answers. “Plus, he’s secretly deeply weird.”

“You didn’t figure that out at the Sports Festival?”

“He’s secretly deeply weird in a fun way, not just a terrifying way.”

Aizawa sighs. “I’m not sure if I should be more worried about you corrupting him or him corrupting you.”

“Both,” Hitoshi says, and does his best impression of Aizawa’s creepiest smile.

He’s rewarded with an even deeper sigh.

Hitoshi can’t deny he’s a little nervous about facing off against Bakugou. Bakugou has been getting somewhat better at managing not to respond to Hitoshi’s taunts, and Hitoshi’s hand to hand has been improving fast but Bakugou is still a dangerous opponent to fight effectively quirkless.

Izuku pulls him aside right before he goes in. “Ask Kacchan how Hana-chan is doing lately.”

Hitoshi raises an eyebrow.

“Just say that, word for word. He’ll answer.” Izuku gives him a tiny, halfway to devious grin.

Hitoshi can’t help grinning back as he pulls down his cowl. “Got it.”

It works like a charm, and afterwards Bakugou strides over to Izuku. “The fuck have you been saying to him, Deku?”

“Word for word what he said to you,” Izuku answers, and there’s some of his old nervousness there but not much. “I didn’t actually tell him anything. I just knew you’d assume I had and freak out.”

Bakugou growls. “I have embarrassing shit I can tell people about you, you know.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Izuku manages to look absolutely unphased in the way most guaranteed to piss Bakugou off, and sure enough he makes a wordless noise of rage.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Hitoshi says, and throws an easy arm around Izuku’s shoulders to lead him away. “You’re a genius and I’m buying you food,” he says to Izuku, as soon as they’re far enough away.

“You’re a genius,” Izuku answers. “The way you snagged that mine with your capture weapon! And oh, I had some thoughts about increasing agility in your costume design…”

Aizawa snags Izuku with his capture weapon and deposits him next to Hitoshi.

“Man, I can’t wait to be able to do that. With anyone, but especially you.”

“Why especially me?!”

“You’re so scoopable, just as a person.”

“I don’t know what that means!”

“Both of you get back to the dorms or you’re spending a week cleaning up the support course workshops.”

“Hey, so I had a thought.”

“Oh no.”

“So, your mom probably has embarrassing pictures of Bakugou as a little kid, right?”

“Hitoshi,” Izuku says, already so full of dread.

“Just saying, I whip one of those out mid-battle and there’s no way he’s not letting me trip him with a brainwash.”

“Hitoshi!” Izuku repeats, face in his hands. “We’ll die.”

“Nah, did you see us in that last team game? We’re unstoppable together.”

Izuku eyes him, and even through the hands covering his face Hitoshi can see a pleased flush.

“So, about those pictures…”

“Hitoshiii!”

#bnha posting #shindeku #idk what if anything i'm doing with this #i'm just. chinhands. Them

34 notes · View notes

amhrosina · 2 years

Text

August (Namor x fem!Reader)

Songfic - August by Taylor Swift

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

A/N: hi friends! I hit 500 followers today and have over 1,000 notes on one of my fics. I can’t express how much I appreciate your support and love for my writing :’). You are all so kind! This fic took me a few days longer than usual because I was experiencing some pretty intense writer’s block. Hopefully, that’s in the past! Anyways, a nonnie requested this! Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy it!

Request: hi i have read the artist and the sea and it was so well-written and wonderful 🥹🫶🏼 this is why i'm requesting a namor x fem reader that is kind of inspired with august by taylor swift? like it's a summer love typa beat but the reader will realize that they don't have a future together since he's a god and she's just a mortal so it's like the lyric "so much for summer love and saying 'us' cause you weren't mine to lose" ??? you can put a happy ending or not honestly it's fine either way! and sorry if this is too specific and if you don't want to write this, it's okay <333

Summary: You and Namor must face the music when the real world begins to catch up with your summer love affair.

(Warnings: smutty language, allusions of smut, no hardcore smut (nonnie didn’t specify and I didn’t want to include it just in case), watch me make shit up about being able to visit Talokan as a human (without the suit lol), fluffy Namor, Namor would hang the moon for reader, a little bit of angst, happy ending bc im incapable of writing sad endings)

Translations:

in yakunaj – my love

princesa – princess

Salt air, and the rust on your door I never needed anything more

The summer heat was stifling, but you were determined to meet Namor on the beach when he finally made it back from Talokan, and the sun had almost set, so the heat wouldn’t be an issue for much longer. He’d been gone for three long days, and you were beginning to grow a little anxious. Since you’d met him, the time between seeing him was never longer than a day or two. When he hadn’t returned last night, you’d opened your bedroom window and listened to the sound of the sea for hours until finally drifting off into a restless sleep. When you awoke, and he still hadn’t come back, the worry began gnawing at your gut.

You weren’t entirely sure why Namor continued to come back to you, time and time again. It was a thought that was easily forgotten when Namor was around, but during the short stretches of his absence, you couldn’t stop yourself from mulling it over. Namor was a god, a warrior that was centuries older than you, and yet, he seemed completely enamored with you.

His “little love”, he called you, a nickname that never failed to make you blush. When you really thought about it, the pace at which you’d fallen for each other was incredibly fast. It was a lightning storm out at sea, a muscle car going 90 down the pacific coast highway, the tumble of the waves meeting the sand on a stormy night. It was a warmth that many people didn’t know existed. You’d never cared about anyone as deeply as you care for Namor, and you tried not to think about that, because it was a terrifying thought.

You never let yourself consider what would happen when you continued to age while Namor didn’t. Namor never brought it up either, and for that you were grateful. The thought left a melancholy note in your body, and you wanted to enjoy the time you were getting to spend with Namor now, even if later wasn’t guaranteed.

The sun hung low in the sky, on the cusp of fading into the night, and you were worried you might be gnawing a hole in your cheek when you finally spotted Namor in the water. You breathed a sigh of relief, but the nervous ache in your chest didn’t disappear. What if he was only coming to say goodbye to you?

“I am sorry it took me so long, in yakunaj. I got here as fast as I could.” He buried you in a hug, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. “I missed you, little love.”

“I missed you too.” You nuzzled into his chest. “Do you want to come inside?”

You tilted your head up at him, blinking in awe at his beauty. You would never get tired of seeing him like this. You were almost completely sure no one in the world got to experience the warm, cuddly side of Namor besides you. The way he described his people gave you the sense that “warm and cuddly” wasn’t really what they were going for as warriors, but you didn’t care. Namor never brought violence home to you, and in turn, you always appreciated his kindness a little extra.

“Lead the way, in yakunaj.”

Whispers of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before"

As soon as Namor shut the door, he was on you. His lips captured yours in a heated kiss, pulling your body against his in one swift movement. One hand traveled along the curve of your waist while the other had a firm grip on your jaw, and the sparks traveling through your veins reminded you of the first time Namor had ever kissed you like this.

Crisp memories flashed through your mind. Namor’s gentle caress along your spine. His fingers lightly treading the waistband of your shorts. The way he’d carefully laid you down, kissing every inch of you with soft lips. In the centuries since he’d been born, the act of sex had become a detatched act of primal urge. He never cared about the people he was burying himself inside of, not really. But then he met you, and suddenly the world had shifted.

“You make me feel alive, for the first time in 500 years.”

He had whispered this into your skin, resting his head on your chest as the weight of his words sank in. You had gently cradled his head in your hands, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before slowly pulling your shirt over your head.

Your first time with Namor was nothing short of magical. You should’ve probably expected it, considering how much more time he’d had to perfect his craft than other men, but you suspected that the love exchanged between you also had an impact. The morning after, Namor had revealed to you that he’d never experienced love, but that he was pretty sure it’s what he felt for you. You’d melted into his hold, and he made love to you again, whispering confessions of love into your skin.

Namor lifted you in the air and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling you back into the present. His desire was achingly hard against your clothed core, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips as you shifted against him. He walked the two of you into your bedroom, and softly closed the door behind him. This was the usual routine after he returned from Talokan, and the love between the two of you seemed to grow every time you reunited.

Your back beneath the sun Wishin' I could write my name on it Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinkin' I had you

Later, after you had spent hours kissing gentle reminders of how much you missed one another into each other’s skin, you were cuddled into Namor’s side, resting your head on his chest in a sleepy haze.

“Why did it take you so long to come back?” You prodded, out of curiosity, but also out of nervousness.

Namor sighed, pulling you tighter against his side. “My people have noticed that I spend more time here than at home. Namora is concerned.”

You stiffened against him. You knew Namor hadn’t revealed to anyone in Talokan exactly what he’d been doing on the surface, but he had never spoken so openly about the toll it was taking on him.

“Do not worry, in yakunaj. It is a peaceful time for my people.”

“What if it wasn’t peaceful?” You asked, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Then I would be with my people, fighting alongside them. I have a duty to protect them, in yakunaj. But I would think of you every second, until we met again.”

You sighed, but you understood. He was theirs long before he was yours, and you couldn’t expect him to give up 500 years of history for you.

“I wish I could see it. Talokan sounds lovely.” You mumbled into his chest, kissing one of the faint scars that hid along the line of his collarbone. He tightened his hold on you – a small token of appreciation in response to your love for his home.

“I know, princesa. There is nothing I want more than that.”

You wanted to ask him how long he was planning on keeping this hidden love affair going, how long he planned on lying to his closest friends and family about his feelings for a surface dweller, but you stayed quiet. That was not something you wanted to know the answer to. At least not now. The thought of your late nights together on the beach and the hours spent wrapped in bed sheets by each other’s side coming to an end was too painful to think about.

For now, you were fine with living in blissful ignorance. Eventually, you knew it would have to come to an end, but what you couldn’t bear to think about was how agonizingly lonely you would be without Namor in your life.

Instead of saying any of this, you lightly kissed his cheek, and drifted off to sleep against his chest, blissfully unaware of the war waging inside of Namor’s head at the exact same moment.

But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose You weren't mine to lose, no

The summer months passed by in an idyllic haze. It was easy to lose yourself in Namor when he was around. Hours would pass like minutes, shaded in the warm glow of summer.

Namor’s visits were less frequent, excused with the wave of his hand, as if to say, “I had to take care of something, but don’t worry about it.” You tried not to mind the absences, though. When Namor was with you, his attention was always fully on you. The nights he spent with you were always as passionate as the first night, and he’d hold you until he absolutely had to return to Talokan.

You didn’t question him, though you were curious about what he was so busy doing when he was at home. He was a King, you supposed. He probably had a lot of things going on. All of this justification didn’t help soothe the sting when his absences began to stretch into 3-4 days at a time. Perhaps he was finally realizing what you’d known all along. He was a God, and you were a human, and it wouldn’t work for much longer.

You mulled this over as you tried to read on the beach one evening. The sun was going to set soon, and it had officially been five days since Namor had visited you. You read the same paragraph three times before finally throwing the book down beside you. Distracting yourself with a book wasn’t working. Your thoughts always trailed back to Namor, and they probably always would.

You watched the sun set, waiting and waiting for the familiar tremor in the water that indicated Namor’s arrival. The tremor never came, and after two hours of sitting in miserable silence, you trudged back towards your house. He wasn’t coming, and even though you should probably have expected this eventually, you couldn’t stop the tears from welling up.

Two more days passed before you saw Namor again, and the weary look on his face when you met him in knee-deep water sent a wave of turmoil into your gut. This was it, the moment you’d been dreading since you realized how incredibly hard you’d fallen for him, and you weren’t prepared in the slightest for the wave of emotion that followed this realization.

Familiar tears stained your cheeks, and the overwhelming sense that you couldn’t breathe overtook your ability to look at him. Namor cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“In yakunaj, what is it? Why are you crying?”

You latched onto his wrists, failing to stop the tears from flowing down your face. “Please just say it, Namor. I can’t take the distance you’re forcing between us anymore. I can handle it.”

“Princesa, what are you talking about? Say what?” Namor’s face morphed into concern as he looked over your features. Your eyes were puffy, stained red from crying, and you looked exhausted.

“That you can’t love me anymore. That you have to go back to Talokan, and that I can’t come, and that I have to move on from you.”

Namor studied your face for a moment. Understanding dawned on his face as he realized how affected you were by his unexplained absences. He wiped the tears from under your eyes and shook his head.

“Is that what you think? That I don’t love you anymore?”

You tried to look away from him, but his firm grip wouldn’t allow it. You closed your eyes instead, trying to calm the heartbreak crashing through you.

“Why else have you been pulling away from me?”

“My sweet little love,” Namor cooed, kissing the tip of your nose, “I will always love you. I am sorry for being so distant lately, but I was trying to surprise you.”

You opened your eyes, confusion evident on your face.

“Surprise me with what?” You asked.

Namor smiled, glancing over his shoulder towards the water.

“We have found a way to bring you to Talokan.”

You inhaled sharply, following his gaze towards what you could only assume was the route to Talokan.

“What do you mean?” Your voice was a breathy whisper.

“I mean, there is a way for me to bring you home with me.”

Excitement bubbled in your chest, but it was quickly extinguished when you remembered that even if you could get to Talokan, time would remain an enemy. Namor was still a God, and you were still a mortal, after all.

“Namor,” you shook your head, “It won’t work. I will still die of old age, and then you will be alone again.”

Namor began shaking his head in response before you could finish your sentence.

“You misunderstand me, princesa. We have found a way for you to stay in Talokan. You would be one of us. That’s what I’ve been working on while I’ve been gone. We could be together forever, if that’s what you want.” He paused, looking over your shoulder at your house. “You will have to say goodbye to the surface, though. It will be visitable, of course, but your home would be in Talokan, with our people.”

“Our people?” You felt like a mimicking parrot, but his proposal had overwhelmed you, and that was the only thing you could muster in response.

Namor chuckled, kissing both of your cheeks, one after the other. “They are very excited to meet their soon-to-be Queen, in yakunaj.”

“You told them about me?” You murmured, in awe of his ability to render you almost speechless again.

“I did. They are glad to see me happy.”

You glanced between your home and the water, mulling over everything he’d told you.

“I know I am asking a lot of you. You do not have to give me an answer now, in yakunaj. You can think abo-”

You cut him off with a searing kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your body against his.

“Take me home, Namor.” You murmured against his lips.

The smile on his face shined so bright that you couldn’t imagine ever saying no to him, if that’s what his response was when he was happy.

For the hope of it all (For the hope of it all)

You looked back towards your house for the final time. Leaving it behind was something you’d never thought you’d do, but you didn’t think you’d miss it – not when an entire city awaited your arrival.

Namor had explained the transition process to you as best he could. A lot of it sounded like scientific gibberish, but the parts that you picked up included drinking a blue nectar that had been mixed with his blood, which would ensure that you could breathe both under water and above it. It would also extend your lifetime by centuries, if not longer. According to Namor, people all over Talokan were celebrating your arrival already.

Namor wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Are you sure you want to say goodbye to this life, little love?”

You smiled and leaned backwards against his chest.

“Let’s start our life together, in yakunaj.” His language felt foreign on your tongue, but you had heard him call you by that name so many times that you were sure you had pronounced it correctly.

Namor let out a loud laugh, kissing your shoulder and squeezing you tighter against him in response.

“I think I could get used to hearing you speak my language, princesa.”

“We’ll have a hundred lifetimes together. Will you teach me more?”

“I will do anything you ask of me, princesa.”

“Forever?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He grinned, nodding. “Forever.”

Tag List:

@thatlesbosimp @legocity2 @softclue @violet-19999 @uwiuwi @omgsuperstarg @purpleetou @raeluvsbloodline @historygeekgueen @kneelarhmstrung @euphoricjupiter @ethereal-athalia @quackson03 @johfaam @messymissy @husherstan @quackimilktea @certifiedhunter @shoxji @dazecrea @layazul @bontensbabygirl @jasmihine @brookiecookiez0 @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08

468 notes · View notes